A/N: MDNI, afab reader, black reader, we love ony down bad as always. I had fun writing this one
“Ony, again bruh come on.”
Onyankopon sighs, rubbing his hands down his face as he stands in the doorway of his dorm. His teammates stand on the other side, once again urging him to come out for the night. “Come on, yall know how my mama is. If I don’t ace this test, I’m done.” he shrugs. Groans sound out in the crowd of people. “Ony, it's college. One bad test won't mess you up. You already have a 4.0.” his best friend Connie slaps a hand on his shoulder. “And if I was paying my own way through school I would agree. But my folks ain’t going for that and yall know it.” he explains for the umpteenth time as he pushes his glasses up on his face. Ony’s arm cross over his wide chest as he tries his best to be patient with his friends and teammates. They’re cutting into studying time was the only thing running through his mind. One thing about him, he ran a strict program. Study time was set and organized each week depending on workload. Alarms were set on his clock for breaks and lunches. Phone silenced for no distractions. He had it all in order but his teammates were disrupting his routine and it made than vein in his neck twitch in agitation. He knew they meant well but it didn't change a thing.
“Come on man. Y'all know he ain’t budging when it comes to this school shit. We gone be late to the party.” Eren groans from behind them, his booted foot kicked up behind him balancing him out as he leans against the wall. He folds his over his chest, black hair greased and slicked back into a low ponytail. “Exactly.’ Ony quickly agrees, “Y'all just go. I’ll catch the next one.” He compromises. Another round of complaints and head shakes sound out. “Wait, isn't your girl supposed to be there tonight?” Reiner asks, that heavy country twang coming from the back of the crowd. Eyes shuffle from him back to Ony, patiently waiting for his response. To be honest, Ony wasn’t sure if you were going to be there or not. I mean he figured you would just because he knew you. That’s literally how you two met.
Ony had been forced to go to at least one team outing by his friends and coaches (yeah, it was that bad.) After hours of reluctance he agreed to go only because he was offered (bribed with) a full study day of no interruptions and a light practice day which everyone knew he wouldn't take. His team had managed to get him out that night for the annual fair. The minute he got there he was ready to leave. It was overwhelming. The lights, the bodies, the people. He found himself standing in the line for the ferris wheel in hopes that the height from the rotating ride could offer him some sense of reprieve from the chaos swarming around him. His eyes fan the area, taking in his surroundings, teammates standing close by loud and boisterous. And then he saw you and instantly it seemed like the world melted away. Ony rarely gets awestruck but there was something about the way your brown skin shines under the moonlight, eyes twinkling like stars. Drawn like a moth to a flame he didn't even register that you had walked up to him until you were standing right under his nose. “Hey cutie. What’s your name?” Was the first thing you said to him that night. His eyes widened because there was no way you were talking to him, right? But you were. He stuttered his name to you and your response was one he would never forget. “Nice to meet you Ony. I’m Y/N. In a few minutes, I’m going to hold out my hand and you’re going to put your phone in it. I’ll be expecting a text from you with a time and a date. And if you can set it in the next 48 hours, you’ll definitely be getting a goodnight kiss that night.” He was so starstruck that he barely registered when your hand lifted in front of him. He fumbled his phone from his pocket and before you had walked off good he had sent you a text (Eren had to force him to do it because he was still confused about the entire encounter). A few dates later, he had finally asked you to be his girlfriend. It was a sweet, quiet gesture much like him. A promise ring stuffed in your favorite dessert at your favorite restaurant coupled with two dozen roses. You shared your second first kiss that night.
You and Ony are alike and different at the same time. Both academic scholars with big aspirations. But where he is quiet, you are the life of the party. Never shying away from a function, a member of every black student organization on campus from student council to dance team, and more. If there is a gathering, you are there. Everyone who ius anybody and even the nobodies know who you are. And Ony loves it about you. Although he is much more on the shy side, his favorite thing is seeing you get the praise and accolades you are much deserved. That being said, there aren’t many parties that you miss so Ony assumes that you would be in attendance tonight as well. “She may be and that’s perfectly fine. But I’ll be here in my room. Now if y'all excuse me, I have to get started. I’m already behind schedule.” He pushes them, in between their complaints, away from the door and closes it, locking both locks. A heavy sigh and soft finally escapes his lips. The clock hits 8:41 and Ony groans in agitation. He was supposed to start at 8:30 on the dot so he can take his breaks on time. “Guess I’ll just have to move things around.” He mumbles aloud as he sits down at his desk to get started.
10:03 pm
His floor is quiet, everyone else having went to celebrate their big win. Pages spread neatly across his desk paired with uncapped highlighters and scribbled on sticky notes. His eyes scan the PowerPoint on his laptop as he double checks the answers on his practice test. He exhales softly through his nose, squinting as he pushes his glasses back closer to his pupils. He had already taken his first break and he was due for another one at 10:30. Focus. Only a few more minutes and you can give your eyes a rest. He blinks a few more times and continues to read. “When comparing the velocity of…” he reads aloud.
His phone rings.
The loud sound shocks him from his thoughts causing his brows to furrow together. His eyes dart over quickly as he reaches out to silence it. He didn’t realize he hadn’t turned his ringer off which is strange for him to say the least. Ony always remembers to turn his ringer off when he is studying. Distraction aside he shakes his head and collects his thoughts. Ignoring the call, he picks up where he left off. “Comparing veloci…”
The phone rings again.
What is happening tonight? He thinks. He lets out a small huff of annoyance flipping the phone up to see who is calling. There are very few people that can bypass his silencer on his phone and his parents know he studies late nights. His heart jumps when he sees your name and picture on his screen, that familiar warmth seeping under his skin. His eyes check the clock. 10:23. 7 minutes. He isn't supposed to answer his phone for another 7 minutes. The FaceTime call continues to ring, device vibrating in his hand. Ony bites down into his lip as he contemplates. He doesn’t normally break his schedule but he knows your deep brown eyes are starting at the phone right now with your brows slightly pulled together, waiting patiently for him to answer. The call would be ending soon and this is the second time you called him. One time won’t hurt. He swipes the phone icon right just as it was about to end, setting his phone up on the shelf so that you could see him and turns his eyes back to his computer screen.
The call connects.
Your face fills the screen, brown skin glistening under the soft led lights in your room. You notice his attention is elsewhere and you smile bright. He is studying obviously. “Hi baby.” You say softly. “You not going to the party?” Ony swallows heavily but keeps his attention on the laptop. Your sweet voice sending tingles down his spine. This may have been a bad idea He thinks to himself, shaking his head before responding, “No. I have an exam this week. I’m trying to make sure I’m prepared.” His eyes continue to scan over the text on the screen. You give his a soft hum. “What about you? Are you planning on going?” He asks. “Thinking bout it. I was going to see if you wanted to help me pick an outfit but you seem busy.” You say softly, shuffling on your bed. “If you can give me a few minutes, I just have to get through this.” he responds jotting down a few notes on yellow sticky. He rips it off and adds it to the others on his wall. “You work so hard. I'm so proud of you baby.” you encourage and it makes his body run warm. He mumbles a shy thank you. Ony’s eyes glance over to you for a quick moment and he regrets it the exact moment he does. His eyes widen at your current position. One leg bent close to you, the other stretched out, slightly dangling off the side of your bed. Your back arched ever so slightly and Ony feels his chest tighten.
You were effortlessly beautiful and a major distraction right now. Still, he doesn’t dismiss you or end the call. Instead he swallows the heavy pit in his throat and forces himself to turn back to his computer, ignoring the blood rushing down his body. “So,” you say, lifting your arm up and leaning your head against your hand. “What you studying?” You ask him, eyes watching the side of his face. You admire the way the screen reflects against his features. Ony was effortlessly sexy. Chiseled jaw and smooth skin with the longest and fullest lashes you’d ever seen. You watch his full lips move as he reads the text to himself softly. “Uh, I was looking over the power points for my kinematics exam and…don’t do that.”
It came out deep, gravelly and sent a tingle down your spine.
You blink a few times, caught off guard at his statement. “Do what baby?” You ask in confusion. Ony holds in his groan refusing to look your way again. He runs his hands down his face “That thing you do.” Your mouth parts in an “O”. You take the time to look at your man and the strain on his face. You have seen Ony in many phases over the past few months. You’ve seen his intensity during games when he tunnels visions on one goal, carrying his team as quarterback. You’ve seen him shy, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose in social settings. You’ve seen him nervous, his lips grazing yours gently, never pushing you too far. You’ve even seen him worried, from his grades to that one time you fell and sprained your ankle and he doted on you for weeks. But this Ony is definitely someone you hadn’t seen before. His jaw is clenched, chest rising and falling at a more rapid pace that you are accustomed to seeing from him. His shoulders are squared, tense and pulled to his ears. Deep brown eyes blinking quickly as he stares at his screen like the words would disappear if he didn't. “Ony, baby what are you talking about? What did I do?” He turns to you and the looks in his eyes nearly pulls a gasp from your chest. “You are being distracting.” he growls. “Ony?” you whisper his name and his eyes roll closed. He takes a few breaths to steady himself before opening them again. “Sorry.” he mumbles before turning back to his computer.
You sit up in your bed, leaning your top half on your folded arms. Shock still coating your features. “Onyankopon Nyamekye. Look at me.” you command, trying to figure out what in the hell just possessed your boyfriend. “I can’t.” he whines, pushing his glasses up once more. You let out a broken laugh. Ony has never acted like this before. “I was…” he starts then sighs. “I was doing so good.” he whispers softly. “And what is that supposed to mean?” Ony leans back from his computer and turns to look at you, really look at you. You sit up on your bed, shorts hiked up slightly from all the rustling around and your top cut just low enough for Ony to see the curves of your breasts peeking from the top of your shirt. The sight of your nipples pressing against the thin fabric makes his mouth water. “Now can you explain why I tried to call my man to check in because I miss him and he’s asking like he can’t give me 5 minutes of attention.” He couldn’t tell you the real reason. You wouldn’t look at him the same. So instead he settles for, “I just need to get this done. I’m a bit behind.” You let out a pouty huff, crossing your arms tighter which in turn pushes your chest out more. Ony shuffles in his seat but you’re too upset to notice. “Fine, I can just let you go. I need to start getting ready anyway.” You murmur slipping off the bed. Your phone falls down in the process, causing the camera to point up to the ceiling. It gives him a moment to breathe but not much. Because after the lust simmers he finally realizes how upset he made you. It makes his stomach knot up.
“Baby.” He calls out to you but you don’t respond, already in your mood. Instead you focus on pulling your clothes out and getting your makeup out of your vanity. Ony feels bad. He knows you weren’t actually doing anything but there was no way he was going to tell you that your thighs and titties were making him so hard that he couldn’t read through his notes. So he settled with the study card as always. Using the moment of quiet, he turns back to his notes. You disregard the phone, now focused on getting yourself together. You take time doing your hair and makeup. You fix your hair to perfectly accent your features. Smoky eyes set with dramatic liner and a deep red lip deepens your sex appeal as you work on piecing together your outfit.
It was fairly warm out and you knew your liquor jacket would do you just right so you choose a jean belted mini skirt and crop option for your fit. It paired perfectly with your boots and the overall look. You smile to yourself., looking at your body in the mirror. “Okay. Purse, ID, keys…where is my phone?” you mumble to yourself as you grab everything you need to get ready and leave. You hadn’t registered Ony was still on the phone up until that moment. “Ok, I’m about to leave.” You say flatly. He startles a bit at your voice. Ony had been attempting to study again but his eyes dart from the screen to his phone in hopes that you would come back. “You that mad at me? You won’t even show me your outfit.” He says trying to lighten the mood. He knows you’re upset with him but he isn’t too keen on letting you go out without seeing you. “You’re studying. Not tryin’ to distract you.” You quip. Yeah, you were pissed. “I'm on a break now.” he lies. His break was 20 minutes ago but schedule be damned. There is no way he is letting you leave without at least looking at you. “Come on baby. I want to see you.” He pleads. You release a small huff from your nose already relenting (because how can you tell him no when he asks so nicely), setting the phone up on your desk so he can see your full outfit. The minute you step back from the screen, Ony’s mouth drops open. His eyes devour you. The way the crop shows off that perfect amount of your belly. The skirt cutting into the meat of your thighs. His mind raced with how good that deep shade of red would look wrapped around his dick. He responds before his mind registers it.
“Fuck.”
Your eyes widen, your mouth dropping open to match his. Ony doesn’t cuss. “Did you just-…” “Do a spin for me mamas.” His voice came out low and gravely, eyes slanted. The same way it is when he has just woken up and you love it. Your thighs press together gently but you obey, giving him a slow 360. “You’re so pretty baby.” He compliments you. “Thank you Onya.” You whisper back. A text chimes on your end breaking you from the trance that is your man. “Shoot, that’s Sasha. I got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow baby. Bye.” You say before disconnecting and rushing out the door. Ony released a deep breath and turns back to his studies.
11:47 pm
Ony struggled through the last 15 minutes of his study session. Every time he tries to read, his mind keeps conjuring up pictures of you in that outfit. His leg shakes underneath his desk in anxiousness. Come on Ony. Focus. He tries to give himself a pep talk but he is failing. He’s never had this problem before. Before he could sit and study for hours without stopping. But being with you, he could barely go 30 minutes before he wanted to see your face or hear your voice. And for the most part he’s been doing good. Until recently.
Recently his desire for you has caused his focus to fall short.
You and Ony hadn’t been intimate…yet. You wanted him to be sure and he didn’t want to rush you. You’d only been dating 8 months. But one night you came over to check on him while he was studying and things started heating up. It was the way his glasses were sitting against his face that had just did something to you. Before you knew it, you’d climbed onto his lap while he was sitting at his desk, pressing your lips all over his neck, sucking softly. His thick hands gripped your sides, hips involuntarily pressing up into you causing you to whimper against his skin. The minute your lips met his, his hands held you down moving your hips up and down his print. “Baby.” You whined and it made him want to push his dick deep inside of you and fuck the noises from your throat. But before either of you could get further, his ringer exploded into the room interrupting the moment. Breathing heavy he checked the caller id and groaned aloud. It was his mother. His head dropped against your chest. Perfect timing mom. The ringer continued to fill the air. “You should take that.” You said to him, removing yourself from his grasp. By the time he had answered and his mom’s rambling filled his ears, you were already shuffling out the door, mouthing a quick we will talk tomorrow. Ony was so worried that he had pushed you too far that he didn’t bring it up again. But you couldn’t stop thinking about that day. Especially how tight his hands held you down as he growled into your mouth. You wanted more of that Ony. But your sweetheart of a boyfriend refused to be that with you.
“I think you should just tell him.” Sasha mentions in the middle of the party. How the conversation circled around to your sex life, the world will never know. “Yall know I can’t. Ony is just…he’s too gentle for that.” You shrug, downing another shot. “Come on. Every man has some level of aggression just pent up inside. You just have to get him to understand that you want to see that part of him.” Annie chimes in. “Yeah, just tell him. Hey big daddy, I want you to fuck me into the mattress until I can’t walk for a week.” Sasha says dramatically waving her hands in the air and pressing her tongue to her teeth. You all burst into laughter. “Not my Ony. He’s a gentle giant so I doubt that will be true. And I’m okay with that really.” You say to your friends. “Alright enough boyfriend talk. Let’s shake some ASSSSS, HOE!” Mikasa yells aloud causing you all to erupt into cheers. Getting lost in the music you waste no time standing on the furniture and showing out with your girls. Unbeknownst to you, Sasha had taken your phone to record you, posting you wilding out to your main story. She eyes Annie and Mikasa as they giggle, well aware of what she was doing. She types quickly, tagging Ony in the story and locking your phone before you realizes what’s happening.
Ony’s phone chimes at exactly 12:23 am. It only takes him a minute to pick it up, brows furrowing in confusion at the notification. The video was only 12 seconds long. It took 7 of those for Ony to get up and throw his jacket and shoes on, snatching his keys off the door hanger and starts walking to his car. Ony wasn’t mad per say. Actually he didn't really care at all. He knew he bagged a baddie when he got with you and unlike most small minded men, he knew what that came with. The video didn’t make him upset, it made him fucking feral. Seeing the way your ass jiggled in that skirt, fabric pressing gently against your pussy coupled with built up pressure from before…yeah he wasn’t making it through the rest of the night without fucking you.
Sweet, never breaking the rules, always on time shy Ony broke so many traffic laws speeding to where you were. His body hot with fever. This is so out of character for him but he doesn’t care. Not with that video playing in his mind. He needs you. So gentle giant Ony hit 97 in a 45, burning rubber as he slides into the parking lot of the club. He barely put the car in park, cutting the engine and speed walking into the building. You’re having the time of your life completely unaware of the scheme that your friends have devised so imagine your surprise when you hear “Aye Ony you made it!” from Connie’s loud ass in the corner. You damn near snap your neck at how fast you turn around to see him. “Ony? Wha…”
“Let's go.”
You blink in shock, his tone throwing you for a loop. “Baby huh?” You couldn’t have heard him correctly. Your eyes scan the shocked faces around you. Your friends lips press together to hold back laughter. “You heard me. We leaving. Get yo shit.” He grunts. Your brows furrow together, a pout forming on your lips. “I’m not ready to go. Why you acting like this?” You cross your arms. His eyes trail your chest and then back up. “You either gone go willingly or I’m gone make you. And you only have 3 seconds to decide so you better choose wisely.” You were in complete and utter shock. Who the hell was this standing in front of you and where did your man go? More importantly why the fuck did it have your pussy leaking in your panties. “Ony, I said I’m not leaving.” was the dumbest thing you could’ve said in that moment.
It was like a scene from a movie. He walked up to you pupils dilated and smiles, tongue running across his lips. Next thing you know, you were upside down. “Tell your friends bye baby.” He says hoisting you up on his shoulder in the middle of the club. A round of cuss words and exclamations sounded in the room blending in with the music. No one had ever seen Ony act like this before. But he didn’t give a damn. “Ony!” You yell out but you’re only met with his hand smacking your ass. He carried you out the door and to his car. “Ony what has gotten into you?” your chest rises and fall rapidly as you sway against his shoulder. His only response is another hand on your ass. The sting is short lived as he rubs the spot he just hit, his hand slipping towards your pussy. You let out a soft moan as his fingers coast across your wetness. Ony climbs into the driver seat of his truck, you still sitting in his arms. “Ony, this is dangerous.” you whisper but you couldn’t lie and say it didn't excite you. “Spread your legs baby.” Ony commands. “Ony, I can’t…” “Spread your legs so I can see my pretty pussy baby.” Now that gets your attention. Ony isn’t vulgar in any form.
Well, he wasn’t.
This was something new for you both. But he didn't give a damn about anything else other than the pure lust rushing through his veins. “Ony.” You whimper. “Come on mamas. Be a good girl for me, okay?” His deep voice rumbles low in his chest. Your breath is ragged, your body trembling as you lean back slowly in the front of the bench seat of his Chevy. You tilt your hips forward spreading your legs slowly. One leg resting on the top of the seat and the other bent slightly resting against the center console. You spread your legs slowly, heat singing your skin from his gaze. “Keep it just like that babygirl.” he starts the car, engine revving as he skirts off down the road, his non driving hand inching underneath your panties. He plunges two fingers inside you with ease and your body convulses at how full you feel. Ony’s hands are big, matching the rest of his massive frame. “Fuck.” You whine as your hips chase his fingers. “Damn baby, you dripping all over the fucking seat. Look at my pretty pussy just gushing for me.” Ony’s deep voice rings in your ears, dragging chills down your spine. Your confusion clashes with your euphoria because the only thing running through your head is what the fuck happened to the sweet man I’m dating. This was a different person completely. You can tell in the way his eyes devour you, the way his fingers caress your walls, the way his tongue drags across his lips and he smirks down at you. You try to call his name but only a moan falls from your lips as he hits that spot just right with the tip of his middle finger. “Ony please.” You whine, your back arching further from the seat. “You begging now just wait until we get in this room.” He growls plunging his fingers deeper, knuckles slipping past your opening. Your manicured hands grip the fabric of the seat as you feel your orgasm build in the pit of your stomach. Eight months, that’s how long it had been. I mean sure you have toys and you and Ony may or may not have sent some photos back and forth but nothing too explicit. So this was overwhelming you in the best of ways.
Eight fucking months and it took a 12 second video to make Ony snap.
He looks over at you sprawled out on the seat, eyes pinched shut as you ride his fingers. Your chest rising and falling. He can feel how close you are by the way your pussy had a death grip on his fingers. He pulls into a parking lot and cuts the engine turning towards you. He leans over, one hand pressing in the seat by your head and his fingers fuck you faster and harder. “Come on mamas. Release for me. Show me how fucking good I make you feel.” He encourages in your ear. “Onya, I’m cumming.” You scream out, pussy squirting all over his hand. “There she is. Ride that shit out for me baby.” He slows his pace but doesn’t move away until he can feel your body start to come down from your high. Your eyes open slowly as he pulls his hand away from you bringing it up to his mouth. The moan he lets out when he tastes your pussy burns itself into your auditory memory and makes your body quiver. “You taste good, angel.” His voice does it again. It shifts in a way you can’t fully explain. “Ony, baby what’s going on? I don’t understand.” You stammer out, still catching your breath. “Come on.” He ignores your question. Your eyes widen. “Ony, are you listening to me.” His eyes narrow. “I’m trying to be patient with you baby. I really am. But if you not out of this car and walking up those steps by the time I finish talking, I will fuck you on the hood of this fucking truck. And I know you don’t want campus police called because your moans are echoing across campus now do you?” He says as he gets out of the car. Your mind registers it quickly and you are rushing out of the truck and following him to his dorm room.
Ony had the pleasure of being a student athlete so his “dorm” was more apartment than dorm. It’s own living area and private bedroom, it was plenty spacious. And Ony was going to make sure you touched every inch of it the minute you both stepped inside. There was no time for words. Your back was against the door, legs wrapped around his waist. You don’t get to question him because your words get caught in your throat. Ony’s undoing his pants and the only thing you could focus on was how pretty his dick is. Long, thick, and veiny. It was like something out of a porn video. “Ony..’ your sentence is cut short as one quick movement has his dick kissing your cervical wall. The scream you let out, you are sure it reverberates through the halls. 9 long raw inches fuck you into the mahogany door. You can only ride through it, nails digging into his back. “Fuck baby, wait please.” You grovel as he takes everything you can give him and then some. Shock blends with the perfect amount of ecstasy, your body practically melting in his arms. “Ony what the fuck has gotten into you.” The sentence is broken into pieces, scattered between heavy pants and moans of pleasure. It does nothing to deter him, if anything he drives his dick further inside your walls, forcing your back against the wood door. You are at his mercy in every sense of the word. “You doing all that begging and shit now. This what you wanted right?” His voice pulls a visceral reaction from you, back arching into a C. “That’s exactly what the fuck you asked for. You been feigning for this dick anyway so you might as well take it.” His words stir something up deep inside you as he quite literally stirs your insides. Ony revels in the way your melodic cries fill his ears. Nights he dreamed about finally coming to life. Your pussy squeezing every inch of his dick and it drives him crazy.
“Ony baby please. I can’t…” you whine. “What I tell you about quitting? We don’t quit do we mamas?” he encourages through strained grunts. Tip pressing deeper until it grazes your cervical wall. “You my superstar ain’t you baby. You not gone quit on daddy, right?” Ony pushes you past your breaking point. You can’t do anything but nod frantically. “Nah, I want to hear you baby. Say you’re my superstar.” Only presses his hips into yours, holding his dick deep inside of you. You tremor, “I’m your superstar.” you whine, tears welling up in your eyes from the pressure. You carve deep crescents in his back but he doesn’t give a fuck. Instead, he tilts your hips just slightly angling his dick to where it hits your g spot. Ony slows his pace and deepens his strokes. Was it wrong for him to enjoy seeing you broken and fucked out underneath him? Maybe but that wouldn't stop the way he fucked you. “
“Fuck, you take daddy’s dick so well. My perfect fucking princess. I'm so proud of you.” He praises as he work you to another orgasm. Your legs tremble as your muscles contract around his dick. The way he slips into you seems effortless, like he is perfectly crafted to fit you. He adjusts his hip height and slowly rolls his pelvis forward, finding that gummy spot deep inside her. “Ony,” you whine “Yeah, I know baby I know. Just give me this last one, ok?” He asks you. All you can do is nod as you feel yourself flood him. “There she is. I love that shit baby.” he says as you feel your eyes fluttering closed. “You can tell your friends thank you for posting that little video.” is all you hear before you fade out of consciousness.
The next morning you stretch out, your body sore as hell. You could hear the shower running as you roll over. You reach out to grab your phone and check your notifications. Your IG was blowing up. Apparently Ony’s stunt in the club went viral. Clips of you being tossed over his shoulder were all over your feed. You tap the photo on your own story to add an update when the video from last night pops up. Your eyes squint, “I know I didn't post this…” But there it was. The video of you showing out last night and in the corner, his tag. You mind puts two and two together and your eyes widen. “These bitches set me up.” You whisper aloud.
you didn’t know who to side with: a tall, tatted, taper fade with grills AND pearly whites darkskin? or a long-haired, green-eyed, pierced-up alt white boy. you felt your panties dampen at the thought. you looked down, embarrassed by how you could be so greedy. but here you were, two men, your sneaky link and your ex, one shirtless while the others in a thick sweater stood face to face staring each other down in your bedroom.
“Eren, you said we’re done! you can’t just barge into my room unannounced!” you finally stepped in between the arguing pair facing your ex. it's been a year of no-contact since you guys broke up after getting into a big fight. you had finally moved on about 7 months after and started seeing Ony.
“ma. I’m bout to kill this guy.” Onyankopon said, directing his attention to you. Ony was fresh out of the shower with his towel haphazardly thrown around his waist, exposing his sharp v-line and tamed happy trail. he had just gotten to your house not even ten minutes ago after work, and went to take a shower. you were all ready for him, oiled up and naked under a VS robe Eren had gifted you last year.
“babe, who the fuck is this” it was now Eren’s turn to look at you. he moved to stand infront you, blocking Ony from your view. “tell your “friend” to leave now so we can talk and I'll pretend this never happened.”
“look bro, I’m not going anywhere, me and your “babe” have some unfinished business to attend to so…” he said sarcastically, Ony was surprisingly calm despite coming across this odd situation. but you had warned him from the start that you had a crazy ex, he laughed it off and said that he’d just fight him. looking back now, he was right.
Ony gave Eren a stern push. Eren fell a step back before stepping forward and pushed Ony, who stumbled back. this time Ony lunged at Eren and you don’t know who screamed, was it you, Ony or Eren? it was like brawlhalla. they were pushing, shoving, hitting and dragging each other across your room. they were careful not to break or hit anything, atleast. you would’ve killed both of them if they broke anything.
“stop! stop! stop it!” after a moment of shock, you tried your best to separate the flying limbs from attacking each other, it took a minute before they finally stopped, panting and out of breath. despite the circumstances you loved the both of them at some point in your life, you didn’t want anyone to get hurt. you never would’ve thought the day would come where you had two fine ass men physically fighting over you. it was hot, seeing the both of them riled up.
“i’m not leaving.”
“tell him to leave.”
they spoke at the same time.
“no.”
“make me.”
they turned to face each other again, looking to get ready for round two.
“will you two stop it before I kick the BOTH of you out!” the two stopped immediately and turned back to face you. you were kind of intimidated.
you had messed with the both of them before but you had never compared them. and seeing them side by side really showed you had no taste in men.
you studied the both of them quietly trying to think of a solution to your problem. you were horny and wanted some action, that was the reason you invited Ony over but Eren came and ruined it.
“I have an idea… it's kind of uhm, a fantasy of mine…” you spoke into the tense air.
“what is it?” they synced and shot each other a side eye.
“who-uhm, whoever eats pussy the best can stay.”
you stunned the room, yourself included, into a silence. “if you don't like my idea feel free to leave.”
you walked to your canopy bed and stripped off your robe. they wouldn’t see your face and you tried to stay composed but you were going crazy internally. this could go right and have the night of your life or you could lose both of them. all you can do now is pray and hope for the first one. you sat facing them on the bed with your back against the bedframe, you knew you would need it if your plan worked.
after a brief silence, you don’t know if it was out of shock or because they were admiring you but Ony was the first to move.
“tch, that's an easy win for me.” he tied his falling towel tightly around his waist, briefly exposing himself to you, it wasn’t nothing you haven’t seen before but it was always such a sight you didn’t know how it fit in his boxers or you. Eren on the other hand was a grower with a mean curve, you took a peek at him and saw a tent forming in his baggy jeans and you could tell he was thinking about the idea, well eating you out, he was an eager one.
the bed dipped under his weight as he crawled to you breaking you out of your trance. he blew cold air on your clit before giving it a few licks like he was a kitten drinking milk. he loved to tease. Eren on the other hand was a meanie.
you heard Eren kiss his teeth before he walked to your on the other side of the bed and grabbed you by the neck, “this is the first and last time I’ll let something like this happen.” which to be honest was fair considering he somehow convinced you to do a threesome with a random girl from a bar you two vibed with one a night out, a dream of his he said. well, this was yours, two men on either side of you.
he kept a tight grip on your throat while bending down to kiss you. you two found your rhythm almost immediately, not surprising considering the years you guys were together, he took your bottom lip and you took his top, it wasn’t long after his tongue moved in.
Ony noticed you were distracted by your newfound pleasure, so he decided to kick it up a notch. latching his big lips onto it he started suckling on your clit like a nipple. you gasped breaking free from Eren’s kiss but he didn’t like that and quickly pulled you back. it was a one- sided kiss, all you could do was moan in his mouth while Eren did all the work. your brain was fuzzy, you could feel yourself scooting back against the bedframe that prevented you. it wasn’t a conscious effort but Ony’s mouth just felt so good you could barely stand it.
you could feel your orgasm quickly approaching and Ony could tell. you always started shaking, it started off as small tremors before it enveloped your whole body and if your mouth wasn't occupied your moans would’ve gone soft as you focused on reaching it. any second now and you would erupt, Ony watched as you scrunched your eyes in the kiss and kept his steady rhythm.
“stop.” Eren pushed Ony’s head away, ruining your orgasm.
“I’m bout to blow this guy’s hea-”
Eren cut him off staring down at your disappointed face. “you think she deserves to cum after this stunt, if she wants too then she’s gotta beg don’t you think?”
Ony’s face quickly shifted from pissed off to smug. “i like the way you think.”
it was like they synced telepathically, Ony got off the bed and made his way to where Eren once stood and Eren got on the bed and made his way to your legs before pulling you down the bed and flipping you on your hands and knees. Ony sat in front of you and you didn’t need to be synced with them to know what to do, you positioned yourself in a deep arch and shook your ass, earning you a slap from Eren. Ony laughed and you turned your attention to him, unwrapping the towel, his dick sprung up immediately, it was almost the size of your head and a thick long vein ran down the underside. you followed the line with your tongue as if it would lead to treasure.
Ony shivered watching you work, he loved giving head as much as he received. watching as you made up your pretty face in pleasure to now frowning in frustration as you struggled to fit the whole thing in your mouth. you bobbed your head up and down testing your gag reflex. once you felt comfortable taking all of him into your mouth, you started off slow before suddenly picking up the pace when he thought you found a steady rhythm. you could see how he gripped the bedsheets by his side, he wasn’t a head pusher; he liked to let you do your thing.
Eren spent a while just massaging your ass, waiting for the buildup of your orgasm to subside. when he finally thought you were ready for another round he took his sweater off, he knew it was about to get messy. your pussy was already soaking wet from Ony, you’d probably squirt this time, that is–if he lets you.
you whined out with your mouth full of Ony. you felt something cold prodding at your lower lips, it had been so long since you last saw Eren that you almost forgot he had a tongue piercing. he trailed his wet, warm tongue all over your pussy, licking from clit to folds, top to bottom, with the occasional contrast of the cold jewellery. Ony was good, he always was but this, this was heaven.
you were slacking off Ony noticed, you're usually more enthusiastic when you sucked dick you would have spit and precum all over your lips, slobber over him. but you kept your focus on his tip, with small licks and swirls with your tongue, while most of your hands did the work. he saw the eagerness Eren was eating you out with, it was like his, it wasn’t gonna be an easy competition.
“who’s the better eater, mama?” he asked, looking down at you. you looked up with tears welling in your eyes.
“um,” you took a breath before putting him back in your mouth. if you really thought about it, which you hadn’t, Ony made you cum quick and easily, it was embarrassing but he knew how to work his tongue. with Eren, it was drawn out and hit you hard like a truck. sometimes Ony paired his mouth with his hands but Eren strictly uses his mouth, with that tongue piercing it’s no suprise.
“hm?” Eren let it be known that he wanted the answer as well. you could imagine while you were in heaven sandwiched between of your current partner and ex, two people who knew your body well but to them it must’ve been hell, someone they were never supposed to cross paths with unless it was an accident at party.
“i don’t know,” you whined, you were as indecisive as ever. but they were just to diffErent to compare.
“I’m not sharing you with this bum any longer.” Onyankopon removed his dick from your mouth, stood up, and wrapped his towel around his waist.
you stared at his mouth open in shock, and you could tell he even shocked Eren, who stopped briefly before returning to eating you out. you could feel him smile into your wetness, thinking he had won.
you were at a loss, do you stop Eren and go after Ony? after all, you were the one who told him to come over. or do you let him leave to appease your childhood sweetheart currently known as your ex.
“wait Ony–”
“move over,” Ony returned to his first position on the bed, but it was now shared with Eren. you and Eren both looked at him stunned, everyone was full of surprises today, first your ex of one-year breaks into your house while you’re with your sneaky link, you propose a pussy eating contest and now your sneaky link and ex are both about to eat your pussy at the same time. without waiting for a reaction he spread your legs further to accommodate both of them.
“top or bottom” Onyankopon bluntly stated.
you looked back at Eren in horror, this would surely make him lose it. he’s the more possessive one you fucked with if his actions today hadn’t already proved it.
shockingly, without another word Eren dove back in, and it seems he listened to Ony and chose top, this time he focused his assault on your clit, flicking it up and down with his tongue. Ony swiftly swooped in and started to finger you, relieving in watching his fingers disappear into your tight, wet folds. he didn’t start slow, it was an attack on your core the second he pushed his fingers in. you couldn’t do anything but press your face into the sheets and cry out. it was too much.
the onslaught behind you was too much, you didn’t know who was licking where or what, you felt something cold but there were so many sensations you couldn’t pinpoint where he last was. at one point the hand in your pussy was replaced with a tongue and a finger prodded at the other hole beside. and the noises, it was so wet, all you could hear behind you was slurping and squelching. was it your pussy making the noises or their mouths?
you were shaking both from pleasure and fright. your orgasm caught up to you quickly, your body couldn't wait to release all this buildup. the first one was ruined by Eren, the second didn’t even really get to build up because Ony interrupted. you didn’t want this one to be ruined, you might actually cry if it is. the intense feeling of it was seconds away from washing over you.
“please let me cum, I love both of you! why do i have to choose…” you cried into the sheets.
“cum for me baby,” whoever’s voice was that didn’t need to tell you twice, and you finally erupted. the tongue inside you was forced out by your squirt, not before attempting to catch it all. the other tongue playing with your clit waited until the wave washed over you before retreating.
you hate him. you hate him, his gentle voice, his gentle hands, the way his arms flex every time he moves, the way his stupidly shiny-perfectly trimmed hair falls over his shoulders while you watch him shuffle around your bedroom looking for his phone over the last five minutes.
you hate how turned on you are watching him exist.
eren is confused. he feels the heat of your glare but he doesn’t understand why you’re glaring in the first place. he can’t think of anything he did wrong today, or yesterday, or even this week, so why in the world are you staring at him like he killed your cat (henry is fine btw)? the search for the phone is futile, he must have left it in the living room. he turns to look at you, eyes flickering up to your face.
“baby?”
“hm?”
“you okay?”
he tries, hoping you’ll tell him whatever’s wrong with you. he watches you shuffle, crawling on all fours towards the foot of the bed where he stands. you swing your legs over the edge, fold your hands in your lap, and just stare.
“it’s really unfair you know.” he cocks a brow at your sudden claim, standing full height infront of you. his arms crossed waiting for you to continue. your eyes trace across the broadness of his chest and the veins in his arms and your glare comes back full force.
“talk to me.”
“it’s really unfair how stupidly good you look all the time. it’s really pissin’ me off.” you tell him avoiding all eye contact. the bastard laughs like this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard in his stupid handsome life. that pissed you off even more. before he could catch his breath, you brace your arms behind to and scoot as far away from him as possible.
“no wait im sorry,” he grabs you by the ankle and drags you towards him. “you’re telling me you’re not being sweet to me—because you like the way i look?”
“i love the way you look, that’s the problem. let me go.” wiggling your ankle in his grasp only makes him tighten his grip. not enough to hurt, never enough to hurt, but just enough to get you to stop. his hand loosens from your ankle to slide down to your calf and to your knee, and he makes his way ontop of you. the bed dips from his weight as he spreads it evenly between his hands and knees. he settled between your thighs, thick brown locks creating a shield as he stares into your eyes.
“mhm, tell me what you like, baby.” he requests oh so politely. eren chuckles at how quickly your lips press into a straight line annoyance written all over your expression. you roll your eyes and huff in frustration.
“why? you want me to boost your ego or somethin’? in your dreams buddy, your head is big enough.” you shove at his chest but he doesn’t budge. he’s still as a board grinning above you, clearly having no plans to move.
“get off me, eren. i’m angry,” you tell him one thing but your words and your actions don’t match at all. your legs around his hips pull him in tighter telling him that you’re not all that serious about wanting him to leave. he leans down placing a soft kiss on pouty lips, shifting his body.
“i just wanna know what about me is making you so angry pretty girl, but i guess if you want me to gooo,” he drags his words and suddenly all the heat of his body is gone and the bed springs up from the loss of extra weight. “then i’ll do whatever makes you happy.”
what a dickhead. you shoot up and stare at him blankly. you miss the feeling of his body on yours, but your ego and your pride won’t let you call him back. you watch his pants drag across the floor when he takes intentionally slow steps toward to door.
“eren?”
“yeah, baby?” he turns with a grin thinking he finally won.
“lock the door on your way out.”
he pauses and doing a comically slow turn and before you know he’s infront of you again. you yelp when his fingers find your ankles once more and drag you towards him.
“eren no! no no no, please! im sorry! forgive me!” you pull and pull but it’s no use, he’s got your feet trapped between his arm and his body in a tight chokehold. his free hand moves to the soles of your feet and he tickles you.
“YOU have serious issues - let me go!” your voice unsteady between the giggles he forced out of you. he laughs at your distress watching you flip and flop on the bed like a maniac.
“say you’ll be nice and love me.” he test.
“hah! f—uck off!
“i can do this all night sweetness,” his voice never wavering even with you rocking his body. he is telling the truth. the idiot accidentally tickled your foot taking your shoe off one drunken night and sent you into a giggly fit and every since then he knows exactly how to get you to talk.
“OKAY! i love you, ill be nice, unhand me!” and just like that he does. you curl up immediately tucking your feet to your body, out of breath and disheveled.
“see now was that so hard?”
“you’re a monster. pure evil.” you sneer gasping for air. he’s looming over you, unballing your body laying you out flat on your back. he loves when your pupils dilate and go all glassy, he’s so close he’s basically breathing in your precious oxygen.
“you promised you’d be nice, that wasn’t very nice (❤︎︎).” he takes no actually offense to what you say, but he sees the way your little act falters when he pretends to be sad. if he keeps this up maybe he’ll actually get you to boost his ego even just a tad. warm hands cup his face and the roles are reversed.
“sorry ren, that wasn’t very nice at all, forgive me?” his heart throbs at your apology, he really does love when you turn all mushy mushy with him. he ponders just for a moment deciding how he can milk this treatment to its limit.
“i’ll forgive you if… you tell me what you love about me.” your sweet expression drops just as quickly as your hands, and your lips once again press into a straight line. you lay there silently, he’s hands still planted by your head and you think about how this could benefit you aswell. with a big fat sigh you take a long blink getting into character.
“you really wanna know?”
“please.”
“well first, i love your arms.” you begin adjusting so you can lightly run your hands along the bone tattoos that match his anatomy. “i love your tattoos, i think they’re very sexy— very you. i love the way they flex when you’re above me like this it makes me feel safe.” your tone so sultry and sweet it almost gives him cavities. he hums in appreciation and you catch him flexing subconsciously.
you continue dragging you hands up to his shoulders and down to his chest. the fabric of his shirt smooth against your palms and you sprawl your digits right against his diaphragm. “i love when you wear your ridiculously fitted shirts and i can see how toned you are. how hard you work to maintain your body, and i get all tingly when you do things to remind me how strong you are. even when it’s unintentional, like when you carry my bags or open the those real heavy doors.”
his breathing hitched when he feels your finger in the divots of his abs feeling him up like some damn pervert. he’s having the time of his life you can tell by the way green eyes are nearly dilated black. “yeah? i-i like doing things for you, baby, like a lot.”
“mhm i know, i love how good you are to me, ren. i love how you love me and make me feel like a princess. i really do appreciate you.” your hands leave his abdomen and cold fingers tug teasingly as at the waistband of his sweats. “i love how you make me feel so so good, the way your ears turn red when i tell you how much i love you, or how you eyes squeeze shut when you smile.” the boy is out of it, complete and total mush in your hands. he swallows hard and he nods almost delirious when he feels your fingers slip under the band of his boxers and graze the base of his steadily growing hard on.
“but you know what i love the most hm?” you tease pushing lower into his pants. he hms back in response fluttering his eyes. “i love,” you start in the sultry tone.
“i love you hair eren, it’s so healthy and shiny!” you gush ripping your hands out his pants with a fat grin gracing your face. “i keep meaning to ask you if the products you use would work on my texture?”
he’s stunned, jaw dropping into an o and he quickly tumbles off you flopping into the bed. he can’t believe you just! and then you— and then?? with his back against the sheets he throws muscular arms over his face hiding from you as you cackle. total pay back for what he did earlier, 10/10 no notes. nothing like a good case of blue balls to piss a man off. your gut hurts from how hard you laugh, the tears welted up in your eyes fall down your cheeks in your giggle fit.
“whew shit, e! you shoulda saw your face! you really though id let you off the hook that easy after what you did to me?” no response. you poke him and poke him, jabbing your fingers into his side over and over waiting for him to react. all fun and games til he snatched your wrist and yanks you —very aggressively may you add— and you topple onto him.
“you’re such an ass, do you know?” he grumbles into your skin adjusting you to straddle him like you weigh nothing. he’s all blushy and cute under you, you lean down pressing soft kisses to his face.
“i just had to get back at you, no hard feelings okay?” he scoffs pressing his feet to the mattress pushing into you so you can feel the effects you have on him.
“only thing hard is me baby,” he says smiling into the kiss you plant on his lips. you scrunch your nose at his corniness kissing him harder while grind himself wherever he can make contact. his hands grab at your waist, your hips, your ass, touching on any part he can, rocking you steady against him.
“you can’t say corny shit like that and start humping me.” you sigh against his lips allowing him to push and pull you to his heart’s desire. he’s so gorgeous laying below you, hair sprawled against the light pink of your comforter like some damn angel.
“mm yeah just keep talkin’ shit like you aren’t enjoying this just as much as me.” he grunts sucking his plush bottom lip between his teeth. your fingers find their way to the hem of his shirt tugging it as a signal for him to take it off.
“fuckin’ pervert, always tryna get me naked.” you grin at his name calling, watching starry eyed because you know for a fact nothing he says is particularly wrong. you nails drag lightly from his chest to his v-line all the way down to the band of his sweats. a swift tug reveals him in all his glory, rock hard against his abdomen.
you don’t touch him immediately like he hoped, he’s actually confused when you sit back on his thighs and cock your head sideways gazing up at the ceiling seemingly deep in thought. “i don’t wanna be on top right now actually.”
he flips you with no hesitation, before you know he’s placing open mouth kisses down your neck, stopping to suck a big fat hickey right between your neck and shoulders. his fingers tank you tank top down exposing your nipples.
“you’re so pretty do you know that? fuckin’ should i tell you everyday and i mean it more than you could imagine.” he huffs massaging your tits in both his hands. his main body moves downwards, amused by how your legs automatically spread for him.
you sigh when he rolls the buds of your nipples between his fingers bringing your hands to cover his. “you’re only saying this right now cause you wanna eat my pussy and yo— oh!” your words falter when he kisses your clit through your panties. he’s hands glide down to your hips, fingers toying with the cotton band. “i told you you were beautiful like three times when you facetimed me this morning, stop lying.” he says full seriousness with his face shoved against your mound. he finally pulls your panties to side to find your cunt sticky and waiting just for him.
his mouth is watering so bad he just lets the saliva fall from his mouth onto your folds bringing two fingers to form a V around your labia. you mewl from his teasing. he knows exactly what he’s doing. your clit jumps from the lack of attention and he chuckles instantly wrapping his lips around it, no hesitation.
“mm! thank you baby, use your fingers too please?” you whine pushing your foot into the mattress to hump his face. who is he to deny you? he takes two thick fingers sliding them in with ease finding your spot no hesitation. he pushes up curling them repeatedly while mouthing at your clit. he grins when you squirm and buck against the sheets, so proud that he’s making you feel like this.
“m’doin good baby? you like?” he teased.
“so good e’, i love your mouth— ahh.” it’s so sticky. every time he drags his tongue through your pussy he leaves more globs of spit making it so much easier to drag his fingers in and out your needy walls. you already know what to do when he takes his free hand to put both of yours on his head.
they tangle in the chocolate locks of his scalp tugging him impossibly closer. you’re practically riding his face using him for your pleasure and he loves it. his pupils blow out black and he usually piercing gaze is hazy. he’s drunk off you but also, your thighs are locked around his head so… eren groans in sync with you, humping the mattress and matching your pace.
“gunna cum in that pretty mouth ren’ fuckkk— keep going baby, i’m so mmm!” you squeal as you climax feeling it in your fingers and your toes. your digits weak as you try and tug him off, but he doesn’t budge just keeps giving your poor sex tiny kitten licks. he pulls his fingers out with an obscene pop and shoves them past your lips letting you taste yourself before connecting your lips with his.
“your face is wet, it’s gross.” you grimaced absentmindedly feeling around his his discarded shirt and roughly wiping his face. he lets you faking annoyance. it is now he has both your legs thrown over his shoulders. heavy length resting on your cunt.
“yeah whatever you want me to fuck you or no?” he apologized immediately after you give him probably the dirtiest look of the night. “sorry, let me make love to my sweet princess pussy, please.” he pleads but you bend your knee off his shoulder and kicking him in his chest (not hard ofc) and he tumbles backwards with a smirk.
“fuck up talking to me, seriously.” you mutter straddling him. you reach down and grab his dick, sinking down no warning. he bucks with a hiss, smirk faltering immediately. you plant your hands on his chest and begin to bounce so some damn rabbit catching him so off guard he moans.
“jesus. g—ive me a warning would you?” he pushes out. tossing a hand over his eyes. embarrassed. just as abrupt you start, you stop. he whines confused but distracted by the pulse of your warmth. he peeks from behind his shield ready to question you but you beat him to it.
“you don’t want to look at me rennie? you don’t like what you see.” you pout at him faking your innocence. you push yourself down on him when he tries to shift his hips to get some sort of friction. “i’ll fuckin’ bust right now (♥︎), swear to god. please move.”
“look at me eren.” you ask him so softly, cooing his name.
he’s a weak man and you know it.
his eyebrows pinch and he lets out the most beautiful most pathetic sound you’ve every heard as soon as he cracks open his eyes. your pussy is so hot against him and you’re so fucking pretty he can’t help the hot ropes of cum that shoot out. “fuck, i love you, love this pussy, your face, evry’thing love it so much baby please bounce on my dick please? it’s yours, just do it for me, use it i won’t stop you.” he’s borderline begging, hands grabbing at whatever piece of flesh he can find.
you are more than satisfied at this and you give the man what he wants. you circle your hips slow warming up before changing your position on the bed planting your feet by his hips and you slide up and down his shaft like it’s what you were made for. his cum leaks out your hole creating a creamy mix around the base.
“i love you too baby, wanna cum in this dick, you want it?” you hum, feeling how his heartbeat picks up from underneath your fingertips. he nods aggressively grabbing you and pulling you towards his neck holding you close to bury your face there. the position has you falling back on your knees forcing you make smaller jumps.
he holds you tight with a hand on the back of your head and a hand at your hip and he fucks up into you. “i fucking need that shit baby, give me—“ his voice is hushed and focused while he pounds you from beneath.
“fuck fuck fuck!” you cry at your release. he cums again when you do, he can’t help it. you gives you tiny strokes letting the both of you ride the waves of your orgasms. he doesn’t let you go for a while he just gives soft kissing whenever he can put them and you don’t complain. just cling to him like a koala. but he just can’t help buts eventually ask—
𐙚!!── ony makes sure to take his time with you upstairs before you head downstairs to the party.
↳ ❝ { cw: nsfw mentioned, light! usage of n word, dom!ony , teasing, fingering, dirty talk, oral (fem rec), begging } ¡! ❞
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
the evening sun casts long shadows across onyankopon's bedroom floor. your overnight bag sat open on his beanbag by the window, a small monument to the weekend you'd already shared at the frat house. tonight was the frat's quarterly bash which meant dressing to impress for the party downstairs.
you stood in front of his tall dresser mirror, a black leather corset top laid across your chest, its lace up front waiting to be tightened. your matching leather capri pants were already zipped up and hugging your hips.
ony lounged on his bed, propped up against the headboard, watching you. he wore only his black sweats as his bare chest and tattooed arms laid on display, the fading daylight glinting off his chain and studded earrings.
"you really facetimed me just to tell me to bring this?" you asked while smiling as you began threading the leather cords of the corset. "you could've just texted."
"i love the way you look in it," he said, his voice a smooth drawl. "don’t act like you weren’t gonna show out anyways."
you laughed while pulling the cords tight, the leather cinching around your ribs and lifting your breasts into a perfect shape. "i don't show out. i just like being…best dressed.”
"yea…that's what you do," he agreed as his eyes tracked your movements. the corset was his idea, of course. he had a vision of how he wanted you tonight as he was helping you look for an outfit in your closet during your facetime call before he came to pick you up.
as soon as he seen the mini laced corset, he pointed it out on his screen, “that one. for the party.” a command he disguised as a suggestion.
you finished lacing the final knot sitting just below your sternum as you look at him through the mirror. the look was cute as your silhouette was defined by the black leather. your capri pants cut off just above your calf, leaving your legs exposed and ready for the black kitten heels waiting by his door.
"you look," he started then paused while choosing his words with deliberate care. "too good, mama."
a thrill of satisfaction shot through you as you turned from the mirror to face him directly. "good. that's the goal."
he didn't move from the bed but his look intensified. "the goal is to look like that, walk downstairs, and have every nigga in this house remember exactly who you belong to?"
"you think they'd forget?" you teased as you walked toward his bathroom.
"no," he said simply as his eyes dropped to the top of your corset, to the way it pushed your breasts up, the plump curve sitting above the leather. "they'd just get stupid and i'd have to fuck them up."
you reached for the small curling iron you kept in his bathroom, a need for fixing the "morning afters." this morning had been one of those afters. he'd put you through the mattress, as promised, your silk scarf torn off in the heat of it, and your leave out in a wild frame around your face. you'd fixed it a little this morning but the party required some more fixing.
you plugged the iron in by his desk while waiting for it to heat up. as you stood there, testing a section of hair, you felt his presence shift. he rose from the bed and he came up behind you, his chest not touching your back but radiating a heat that you felt through the leather.
his hands settled on your hips as his fingers curled over the top of your capris. he didn't speak while he watched you in the mirror. you smoothed a curl as your focus divided between the task and the pressure of him behind you.
"almost done," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.
"i know," he replied as his hands slid up and over the leather of the corset while tracing the lace. he found the knot at the center of the lacing as his fingers toyed with it. "this is a lot of work. for a party."
"it's for you," you said while turning your head slightly to catch his eye in the mirror.
a slow smile touched his lips. "i know."
the curling iron was hot as you finished the last few curls, your hair now falling in soft curls around your shoulders. you unplugged the iron and set it aside. you were finally ready as you turned to face him fully, expecting him to step back and lead you downstairs but he didn't.
instead, his hands returned to your hips as he guided you backwards until his thighs met the edge of his bed. he sat down on the mattress, pulling you with him, so you were standing before him, his face level with your stomach.
"what?" you asked in a playful suspicion in your tone.
he didn't answer with words as his hands went to the knot of the corset and with a slow pull, he undid it. the leather laces loosened but he didn't remove it as his large hands then went to the waistband of your capris. his fingers find the button as he pops it open and pulls down your zipper.
he looks up at you as he says, "i want to taste you before you go down there."
your breath catches as you run a hand over his freshly shaved fade. "ony… the party starts soon."
"i know," he says as his voice leaks with hunger. "and i want to taste you. right now."
he didn't wait for permission nor did he ask as he leaned forward and pulled you in closer by the back of your thighs. with one smooth motion, he guided you to sit on the edge of the bed as he slid the leather pants and skimpy thong down your legs. they pooled around your ankles into a leather puddle on the floor.
you were half naked, the corset still hanging open above, and your lower half bare before him. he loomed over you, his frame blocking the light. “open this,” he murmured, fingertips hooking under the bottom of your tank.
you obeyed while pulling the cords and opening the corset enough for both of your breasts to fall out. the air felt cool on your skin as his eyes drank in the sight of you, bared before him in his room.
he didn’t rush as his hand returned to your stomach then glided upward, over your rib cage, until his palm cupped one breast. his thumb brushed your nipple, once then twice in a slow tease. it peaked instantly, hard and sensitive under his touch as you arched into his hand, a silent plea.
“not yet,” he whispered, reading you perfectly. he shifted while lowering himself so his mouth was level with your chest. he kissed the space between your breasts, a soft lingering press. then his lips traveled to the side, skirting around the swell of your breast, avoiding the nipple you desperately wanted him to touch. his mouth was warm and everywhere but there.
you let out a frustrated sigh as your hands come up to clutch at his shoulders. the muscle of his shoulders strained under your grip.
he smiled against your chest. “you want something?”
“you know what i want.”
“do i?” he teased, his mouth finally drifting closer to your nipple. he hovered then he blew a cool stream of air across it. the contrast made you gasp. “tell me.”
“paaa…” you whined, the nickname a plea.
“not good enough.” his hand slid down from your breast and over your stomach as his fingers rested on your lower abdomen, just above where you needed him. “tell me what you want.”
your mind fogged as the party downstairs was a forgotten echo. his presence and his control was all that existed. “touch me,” you breathed. “please.”
“where?” his fingers flexed, pressing deeper into your abdomen, but not lower.
“lower.” you were grinding against his hand now, seeking more contact.
he removed his hand entirely as you groaned a sound of pure frustration. he chuckled as he leaned back, looking at you spread before him— flushed, bare chested, legs wide open, and your expression openly desperate.
“you’re not begging,” he said as he stood up from the bed, and for a terrifying second, you thought he was leaving. he only walked to the door and turned the lock with a quiet click. then he returned as he knelt on the floor beside the bed, his face level with your thighs.
his hands returned to your thighs, smoothing up the insides, his thumbs brushing close to your lips but not touching them. the near contact was electric. “now,” he said, his voice a low command. “beg f’me.”
the words hung in the air as you sat wet and aching for him. the sight of him so controlled and so patient, waiting for you to beg, unlocked something deep as your pride melted.
“please,” you started with a shaking voice. “please, pa. touch me. i need you to touch me. i can’t… i’m so empty. please, baby. please put your hands on me. i’ll do anything. just… please.”
a slow, triumphant smile spread across his face as he’d broken you down to your raw wanting core. “gladly,” he purred.
finally, he moved. one hand came up as his fingers parted you with slow pressure. his fingertips slick with your wetness as he circled your clit with a precision that made your back arch off the bed. a sharp cry tearing from your lips.
“there,” he murmured, watching your face contort in pleasure. “that’s what you wanted.” he said as he kept that circling pressure. his other hand joined, fingers sliding lower, and dipping inside you with a penetrating stroke. you were so wet, his fingers met no resistance. they filled you as he curved them and began a slow deep rhythm.
the dual sensation was overwhelming as you moaned, loudly, uncaring of who might hear beyond the locked door. your hips rolled, matching his rhythm, and seeking more. “more,” you gasped, already begging again. “please, more.”
he added a third finger, the stretch becoming full. his pace increased as his fingers pumped deeper while his thumb on your clit pressed firmer. the room swam as your vision blurred at the edges. your moans became a continuous, breathy stream, punctuated by his name. “ony… yes… right there… don’t stop…”
he didn’t as he watched you unravel, his own breath coming heavier, and his composure finally showing a crack. his jaw was tight while his eyes glued to where his hands worked you and to your face lost in pleasure. “you’re gonna come for me,” he stated, his voice thick with lust. “right now. come on my hand.”
the command paired with the sudden curl of his fingers inside you and the rapid flick of his thumb, tipped you over. the orgasm crashing through you as you clench around his fingers with trembling limbs. you cry out a sound torn from your chest as your body arches and then collapses back onto the bed, spent.
he slowed his movements, gentling you through the aftershocks. he withdrew his fingers slowly while bringing them to his lips, his eyes locked on yours as he tasted you.
"taste so good, mama." he whispered.
he rose from the floor, his print evident in the tightness of his sweats. he didn't address it as he turned his attention to you, to fix the mess he made. he helped you stand on shaky legs as he pulled your leather pants back up, zipping them with careful hands. he put your breast back into your corset as he re-tied the laces, tightening the laces with the same deliberate focus he'd used to undo them.
he fetched your kitten heels next as he slid them onto your feet. then he took your curling iron and with a few expert passes, he smoothed the leave out hair that had frizzed from your sweating and thrashing. you watched him in the mirror as your tall, commanding man now tended to you with a focused tender care.
when he was done, he stepped back while surveying his work as he nodded a silent approval. then he reached for his own shirt, a simple black tee, and pulled it over his head. "now," he said, his voice returning to its usual calm cadence as he leaves a kiss on your forehead. "let's go downstairs.”
I just know Terry's got the type of dick where he needs to force you to sit on it. You're just hovering over a few inches, baby so big you don't got the strength in you to willingly take him fully.
First, he'll tell you nicely "C'mon, sit on it baby. You got it. What you can't ride your dick?"
But he won't ask again. If you don't get it right after that, he's placing his hands on your hips and lowering you onto him. He'll go slow, though. Rest assured. If you're in reverse, he'll praise you in silent, wet kisses on you back.
He's a soul snatcher, I just know it. And until you've a little limp in your step the next morning? A random smile on your face everytime you think of him. He's doing it again, and again and again.
Shit, I need to lay of the wine. It's really gets me to thinking😭
-🌹
A/N: I can never write a drabble for this man, I fear 😪 But I appreciate your faith in me to deliver a little sumn 🥵
The Little Death
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Fluff, cursing, smut, PIV, sweet and possessive Terry, oral (female receiving), teasing, dirty talk, established relationship, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.
Summary: After an incredible date night out, you can no longer stick to the six-month no sex rule you have in place. Terry makes it extremely difficult to think of anything other than him and the sexy promise in those beautiful eyes of his.
Word Count: 4,287k
AO3 Link
A/N: I may have mixed feelings on the actor, but baby, I am still over the moon for Terry. Thank you for rocking with the new way of doing things. I've been missing that man so I hope a few others have been as well. I've been busy revamping this novel so it's something I'm proud of. I swear it's coming LOL. But that's where my focus has been. This will be the last regular one-shot for a while so I can dive into my 14 series.
PSA, I no longer have a taglist for Terry fics. Please follow the side blog @lost-lovers-club and turn on all notifications. The only ones still tagged are part of my permanent list. Please don't ask to be on the permanent list just to get tagged for Terry. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.
Terry Richmond would likely be the death of you.
Not for any violent reason; the rough pads of his fingers just felt heavenly against your skin as he idly rubbed them across your neck. He sat behind you on a stool and had you tucked in front of him, so that the heat of his chest seeped through your back and warmed you in all of the right places. All of them.
A soft rock band called Infinity Song was on a small stage belting out their most popular song, Hater's Anthem. The sibling quartet had a vibrancy on stage as they danced along with the music, played instruments, and engaged back and forth with the intimate audience.
When Terry suggested that you go to a distillery for a date…yeah, you had reservations. But it surprised you with the wide open patio behind the distillery's bar that had a roof so you weren't getting burnt by the setting sun, a food truck that made the most delicious pizza you'd ever had outside of Italy itself, and plenty of wooden benches, tables, and stools to linger around. Plus, the smell from the grains used to make the whiskey was absolutely divine and you wished you had a candle to capture it. The music had a folksy, almost R&B kind of feel that made you sway your shoulders.
The middle of the floor was kept open for people who wanted to dance and there were plenty of couples both young and old who took advantage. There was an older Black couple on the floor dancing, the man twirling his wife around. His wife had the biggest grin across her face, instantly making her look like she was in her twenties again. The husband only had eyes for her and you had to blink away some unexpected tears.
"You want another drink?" Even sitting down, Terry was a massive giant. His lips pressed against the top of your ear so as he spoke his lips tickled you. His breath fanned across your neck and you suppressed a shiver.
"Yes, please," you said.
"Another Sweet Potato?" He asked. You nodded so he collected the empty glasses on the small, square table and walked towards the bar. He wore light wash denim jeans, a long sleeve white thermal, and thick heavy boots. His gold chain rested on the inside of his shirt, but every now and then, it caught the light and sparkled against his almond colored skin. The bar was located inside the distillery, so he bent to clear the door and then disappeared inside.
You finally had time to breathe and collect yourself. It had been six, long months of not going further than second base. That was your decision and Terry had been nothing but a gentleman, willing to go at your own pace. You started the six month standard because these men out here were absolute dogs.
You'd never met a consistent liar who could be patient for six months and abstain from sex. If you were going to invite someone into your bed, they better have the personality to match the bass in their tone. And so far…Terry most definitely matched it. He was funny with his dry humor, sexy as sin, and was nothing but a gentle giant. Those stormy eyes and secret smirk of his promised there was a whole other side to him you weren't familiar with and you were excited to see where that took you.
But he also frightened the absolute hell out of you. Terry walked like it was heavy with big steps and a slow gait. More than a few times, you felt that monster brush up against your hand while making out or against your ass when he stood behind you. And that was him at rest. You'd never taken someone as big as him and quite frankly, you didn't know what to do with all of that.
You had better learn quick though, because you didn't know how much longer you could hold out. Terry exited the bar with two glasses and he smiled as he walked back to you. Every time you saw him, however brief the absence, he took your damn breath away. He was letting his hair grow out, so he had a neat crop of curls that made your belly flip. He handed the glass to you and you took a sip, letting the whiskey cocktail work its magic. It had a toasted marshmallow as a garnish and you took bites as you sipped the drink.
Terry returned to his seat behind you, tucking you back into his chest. One hand wrapped around your waist possessively, while the other wrapped around his own drink. You weren't typically a whiskey girlie, especially the high proof ones Terry preferred, but this had been one of the best dates you'd ever went on.
"So what did you think about my band?" Terry asked.
"Not bad, not bad," you had to turn to the side just to be heard over the music. Your shirt rode up, exposing your back. Terry adjusted your shirt without prompting, pulling it down to protect your modesty. Your heart and pussy melted even further.
One of the female members, Momo, wore a sparkly blue dress that caught the light from the bulbs around the sign proclaiming them as the headliner for the night. She was in the middle of a solo song, so it was easier to talk, but only just.
"I see why you like them. They have a vibe," you continued.
Terry nodded. "A friend introduced me to them after her wife put her on. I figured you'd like them."
"Oh, you know me like that, huh?" You asked. You grinned at him and he playfully narrowed his eyes.
"I know a lot about you," he said quietly and from the look in his eyes, you wondered just how much he knew. As if he could read your mind, his thumb absently caressed your hip.
"Yeah? Like what?" You asked.
Terry only responded with a smirk. The bastard. He took a sip of his drink and his fingers wrapped around the glass in a way that made it look tiny. His lips wrapped around the edge and you watched, mesmerized, as his throat worked to take a quick sip.
The song ended and everyone began to clap and cheer, pulling you from eye-fucking the man. The oldest band member, Abraham, started talking to the crowd, saying they were going to play one more and then end the night. He thanked everyone for coming out, sounding like he was sixty-seven with his mannerisms and proper way of speaking.
"Dance with me," Terry said.
You turned back to him and nodded. Maybe that was what you needed. Because after sitting and drinking, you were warm and fuzzy all over forgetting why you had the rule in place. You needed some movement, somewhere for all the pent-up energy to go.
Terry stood and held out his hand for you. Other couples had the same idea, getting onto the dance floor as well. You took his hand and let him lead you to a spot and then he drew you closer, pulling you by the waist so that there wasn't an inch of space left to the imagination.
Terry drew you into him and you fit like the last piece of the puzzle. He was able to hold you and make you feel wholly engulfed in him even though your hand was on his shoulder and not round his neck or he had to bend slightly to hold you. He didn't complain, didn't show an ounce of it bothering him, as he carefully maneuvered you around the other dancers flailing their partner around.
Terry's thumb rubbed circles into your back and you kind of regretted the thick, ribbed, mustard colored shirt. You felt his thumb, but you wanted to feel it skin to skin. You shook that errant thought away.
"You are so damn beautiful," Terry said, his deep voice rumbling in his chest and vibrated against yours.
You dipped your head so he wouldn't see the bashful grin on your face. "You are very good for the ego, Mr. Richmond," you giggled. "Thank you."
Terry chuckled, spun you away from him, spun you back, and dipped you slightly. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" You couldn't help but ask. This man was impossible.
Terry righted you and smirked. "Doing what?" He asked, picture of innocence.
"This…you…" You couldn't bring yourself to name it because he had it. He had a presence most people didn't. Intense but not stiff, confident without being cocky, or secure without throwing his weight around. It was honestly a miracle no one had snatched him up by now.
Hell, you were doing the same thing in a way. Keeping him at arm's length because there was no way someone like him could exist. He wasn't perfect, not by a long shot. He had a few habits that bothered you but not enough to kick him to the curb. He was a terrible dancer with any song faster than a slow dance, drank whiskey that could choke a horse, and was an early riser.
None of that lessened the impact he had on you whenever you got around him. Like all of those minor annoyances faded to the background the minute he smirked or joked. And when he gave you a full, unobstructed view of that grin…it fueled plenty of fantasies over the weeks.
It doesn't have to be a fantasy.
Terry spun you again, waiting for your response. But the only thoughts on your mind right now…was filthy and disgusting and you were tired of fighting it. You gave up, gave in, and surrendered.
When you were back against his chest, you looked him in the eye and grinned. "Take me back to your place?" You asked.
His eyebrows shot up in the most adorable way but he recovered enough with a grin. "Are you sure? There's no pressure," he said.
You pressed closer to him, your boobs resting against his chest. "I want you," you said with a low, sultry tone. It'd been long enough. You were God's strongest soldier for six months and now you were beyond denying yourself what was clearly a fun ride. You'd just have to communicate that he had to go extremely slow. Otherwise he'd split you open and you didn't want to explain that to EMT's.
Terry's eyes dipped from your titties and then to your face. Without hesitation, he grabbed your hand and dragged you off of the dance floor. Your giggles were impossible to stop as he grabbed your jacket and helped you into it. He chuckled with you, the both of you acting like you were teenagers off to do something naughty.
Terry pushed the boundaries of speeding as he drove to his place, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. The casual way he showed his possession was one of the first things that made you fall for the man. Consent was always sexy, but sometimes you wanted to feel wanted. And he made you feel wanted each and every time you were around him.
Terry pulled into his driveway, outside of a modest one story brick house with white trimmings and a black roof. You'd been here plenty of times before over the months you'd started dating, but now practically felt like the first time.
Terry hopped out, coming round to your side to help you out of his colossal truck. Once out, it took no time at all for him to open his door and let you inside. He flipped on a few lights to illuminate the way, but once the door was closed, his lips descended upon yours.
You kissed him back, no longer restricting yourself. No longer holding yourself back. You gave yourself permission to enjoy the way his soft lips crashed to yours, as if should he stop, even for a second, you'd disappear. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders, digging your nails in.
His knee pushed your thighs apart and then he rested it against your pussy, giving you much needed pressure but it wasn't enough for any true relief. His hands grabbed and squeezed your ass, sitting you more fully on his knee. You moaned into his mouth, the whiskey on your tongue dancing with his.
Your brain needed more oxygen so you were forced to break apart to get more air into your lungs. Terry's hands went wandering, unbuttoning your shirt to reveal your brown lacy bra beneath it.
He groaned as he looked his fill. He cupped your breasts, kneading the soft flesh, and ran his thumbs across your nipples.
"Fuuuuck," you moaned.
"So fuckin' beautiful," he murmured.
The alcohol plus his comments made your cheeks turn flaming hot. Sweat beaded against your temple and your rational side fought with your irrational side. You needed to slow down, needed to get a few ground rules out of the way. But your body wanted more, more, more. Your hips canted against his knee, seeking a type of relief that only comes with either his mouth, fingers, or dick.
His juicy big lips returned to yours and he sucked on your bottom lip. You felt the answering tug in your pussy, your clit throbbing for some attention as well.
"Terry, wait," you whispered, so out of breath you were light headed.
Terry immediately stilled, his hands around your waist and he pulled back to look at you. "Talk to me," he said.
You giggled at the seriousness but he was only turning you on more. "I, uh, I should," you started but took a deep breath and started over. "I very much want to have sex with you. But I think we should go slow. You know how big your dick is, right?"
Terry chuckled, closing his eyes to laugh with his full body. He shook in your arms and you couldn't help but join in. When he sobered, he gave you a serious look. "We can go as slow as you want, I promise."
You nodded but you weren't that convinced. After all, that monster pushed against the fabric of his jeans and it looked painful. Something on your face must've given away your thoughts, because Terry retreated.
"Wait, no!" You said.
Terry chuckled and stepped closer once more. The heat of his skin was a balm to your racing heart. The woodsy scent of his soap wrapped around you until that was the only thing you could smell. One of his hands came up to cup your face. His thumb traced a pattern against your jaw and he gave you a kiss so damn tender, you gasped. "We have plenty of time to explore all of the ungodly things I want to do to you. But tonight, we'll take it as slow as you want. Deal?"
"Deal," you said with a grin.
He stepped back so he could untie his boots. You did the same, kicking off your shoes and taking off your jacket. Your shirt hung loose from when he opened it, so you let that fall to the floor as well.
Terry grabbed your hand and led you further into the house, bypassing a cozy living room with the bare essentials and dark, wooden tables and a leather sofa. His kitchen was just as clean, not a fork or cup out of place. At the end of the hallway, Terry turned on the light to his bedroom, dimming it to make it more intimate.
The curtains were drawn and his king-sized bed still looked too small for his big ass. The carpet underneath muffled your footfalls as you joined him at the foot of the bed, reaching for each other at the same time to peel off your clothes.
His shirt went first, his gold chain swinging and then settling back against his broad chest. He had a light smattering of hair dusted around and you greedily ran your hands all over him. He did the same, his hands never lingering anywhere long as if he didn't know where to start.
He opted for your jeans, unbuttoning them and stripping it and your panties in one fell swoop. You stepped out of it, taking your socks off as well. You helped Terry with his pants, giggling as you fought with the button.
"It's a little tricky," he said.
"I can handle a button," you said, tugging the damn thing free and sliding the zipper down. He hissed as your fingers brushed his erection through his boxer briefs, his long eye-lashes fanning across his cheeks as his eyes narrowed with unfiltered lust.
Fully naked, Terry backed you into the bed. Once the back of your legs hit the edge, he pushed you onto it and encouraged you to bare yourself to him. He kept his hands on your knees, looking at the very core of you.
"Terry," you squirmed from his scrutiny.
"You are so damn gorgeous," he said, looking at you like you just presented him with the best gift ever. Yup, this man would be the death of you.
"You're so fuckin' hot, it hurts," you confessed.
Terry gave you a sexy grin and then knelt on the ground. He wrapped his arms beneath your legs and then yanked until your ass half hung off the bed. Without preamble, his lips suckled your clit into his mouth and you screamed from the pressure.
Terry suckled, licked, and kissed on your pussy until his mouth was coated with your juices. Your body flailed on the bed, gripping the berry colored comforter with everything you had. Your nails dragged against the fabric as your body tried to process Terry's wicked machinations.
"Oue shit, oue shit," you moaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. His popcorn ceiling winked in and out of view, your mind caught between the physical plane and somewhere else entirely. Somewhere of Terry's own making because all you could hear was him moaning. All you could feel was his tongue lapping up your juices like a man starved. The scent of your essence filled the room quickly; Terry turning you on so much that you'd explode right there on the spot.
One hand kept you open for him while his other arm jerked. You had enough strength to peek and found his arm jerking furiously. You moaned and went off like a firework, building and building, until your body broke apart in a shower of sparks and light and colors.
Terry didn't slow. He kept going, tasting one orgasm with a lick of his lips and a curse and then wrung another one right behind it. "Shiiiiiit," you moaned, your thighs squeezing his head. You didn't mean to, but fuck, you couldn't help yourself. It felt too good. Too amazing. So damn good you feared you died somewhere in the middle of it and his tongue brought you back.
Terry moved both his hands to open you wider while he drowned in your pussy. Your legs shook from being too sensitive. You slapped at his head and whined. He chuckled and then moved to nibble and kiss your thighs.
"I want you to ride me. You can control the pace," he whispered against your slick thighs.
"Can't. Too dead," you panted for air.
Terry chuckled. He nipped your thigh and you jerked, ending it with a giggle. He chuckled again while he stood up. "Dead folk don't giggle."
You groaned but it was time to put your money where your mouth was. You got to your elbows and examined every delicious inch of him. His body was well-honed and chiseled from many hours spent in the gym or hiking. Corded muscle flexed with every movement he made. His dick swung heavily, tapping lightly against his thigh.
You lied. You were not prepared for how big he was. The pants he's worn around you must've been designed to hide it, because there was no way this was the same dick you felt up on earlier.
"You better stop lookin' at me like that," he said with a smirk. He turned to approach his nightstand, pulling out lube and a condom.
"Or what?" You taunted, getting onto your knees to walk across the bed to him. He sighed as you ran your hands over his shoulders, his back, and down his bubble ass. You gripped him tight and he chuckled.
"Or I'ma put you through this mattress," he said. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he turned away to uncap the lube.
"I'm on the pill," you said and kissed his back.
He stilled. "Don't play with me right now." His voice took on a darker, raspier tone that made you shiver.
"I want you. No barriers. If you're comfortable," you said. You waited long enough. You just wanted to feel him in every way you could. Anyone else, you'd tell them to double wrap it. But Terry could have you ten ways from Sunday and you were done denying yourself that.
Terry growled low in his throat. He turned and gave you a scorching kiss, hot enough to make your skin bead with sweat. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself in the middle. He pulled you until you climbed on top of him, reverse cow girl, popping your ass in his face.
He chuckled and gave you a few quick smacks. You moaned while he grabbed the lube and rubbed his dick with it. "We go at your pace, okay?"
"Yes, sir," you said.
"Fuck me, you're perfect," he said. He helped guide you until he was lined up. Then he let you take over as you slowly took him in.
It burned deliciously but it did burn from the stretch. How the hell did women bounce on big dicks like their favorite trampoline? His tip was barely inside you and you were ready to call it quits.
"Nice and slow. There's no rush. Take your time, baby," he encouraged as you slipped further and further down. You leaned up and then slid back down on it, finding a nice, slow rhythm.
He hummed and groaned, digging his thumbs into your back. "Ouue shit," you moaned. Between his fingers and his dick, fuck cloud nine. You were on cloud five hundred.
He gave you wet kisses to your back while you rode him but you couldn't manage to fit all of him inside. It was already too much. He filled you completely, dick throbbing deep inside. You felt every last veiny inch of him sliding against your slick inner walls.
"Sit on it," he demanded.
You shook your head, though he couldn't see your face.
"No fuckin' way," you sighed with a giggle.
Terry chuckled. He gripped your arms and pulled you backwards, opening you in a way that you were able to fit more of him inside. He leaned forward and then trapped your arms when he brought his hands around to cup your breasts and squeeze your nipples.
"Oh fuck," you moaned, your pussy clenching around the length of him.
"Sit your pretty ass on this dick. To the base," he commanded, his deep voice working a spell on you.
"I can't," you whispered. You were too afraid, too nervous to take him fully. You didn't know why. Or perhaps you did and you just didn't want to face the truth. This man was going to ruin you for all others.
He already has.
You whined, but you worked with him, trying to work more of him inside. He retreated so that he could apply more lube, the sweet, sweet man making sure that you were comfortable. Then, he slammed you down in one rough thrust that immediately made you scream, curse, and go cross eyed as another orgasm tore through you. Your nails raked his thighs as the overwhelming pleasure was a little too much. Nothing made sense; you're pretty sure you could taste colors, as Terry fucked you through it.
Nonsense poured from his lips as you took him to the base. The pace was still lazy and slow, but he made you feel it all. He thrust a few more times.
"I'm finna bust," he groaned low in the back of his throat.
He bit your shoulder, fingers pinching your nipples to bring delectable pain, as he finally bust. His hot cum flooded you, gushing out, causing you to smack lewdly against his pelvis. He groaned and jerked, his dick throbbing a steady beat.
"Fuuck," you whined. You couldn't describe how otherwordly it felt while he emptied himself, but it was over too soon as he panted against your damp skin.
"You're fuckin' perfect," he said. He turned your chin so that he could kiss you. It was an awkward angle, but you were already greedy for more. He nibbled on your lower lip before he pulled away to nuzzle your neck.
"Wanna get cleaned up?" He asked.
You already felt him throb once more, his erection was only half mast but seemed to be rising. You chuckled and looked back at him. "You are so damn nasty," you said with a wide grin.
"I can be worse," he promised.
You had no doubt in your mind that he could be. It didn't stop you from following him into the shower where you got all kinds of dirty before you could get cleaned up again.
Yup, Terry Richmond would be the death of you. And that didn't matter one bit to you.
The end.
Thank you so much for reading. There's so much more!
16k wrds. fem black reader. angst. fluff. plot with smut. MDNI.
warnings: cursing, use of the n word, alcohol, weed, romantic shit, servicedom!ony, sub!reader, pet names, daddy kink, unprotected sex (BE SAFE), pussydrunk!ony, ony’s a talker, ass eating, praise, toe sucking, foot kissing, overstim, pictures during sex (with permission), filthy just how I like ittt, ony really just dotes on you like a lot, aka sluts you out
moodboard
a/n: little late, but I’m feelin pretty good about this one 🤭 buckle up, she’s long. enjoy! <3
as of late, ony’s been busy.
like, I’ll call you later and not call until well into the night, busy.
I have to stay at work late tonight, I need to finish this project, busy.
I’m sorry, baby, can we postpone date night? busy.
fidelity isn’t something you worry about in such a secure relationship, so that’s no issue. you know he’s just working hard to further his career.
regardless, it’s irritating. you miss your man.
his hands, his voice, his laugh. the two of you are very big on quality time and physical touch, and when he gets like this, it’s always an adjustment. you just want to be up under him, snuggled in bed or on the couch and enjoying the little things. his hands rubbing your ass softly, his kisses on your shoulder and neck, the way it feels to lie on his chest as he laughs at something stupid on the tv.
you miss his presence and he knows it– he knows his lady misses him. it wrenches his heart because he hates disappointing you. he can hear the upset in your voice when he postpones something and it just makes him wish he could keep you in his pocket all day long.
he, too, misses your touch. he misses hearing your little satisfied sighs after finally finding a comfortable cuddling position, your sweet face tucked in his neck when you’re feeling particularly clingy, and he especially misses your soothing caresses and kisses.
the feeling of taking care of you, of connecting with you, revitalizes him like no other. going from having that everyday to connecting less and less is haunting his thoughts.
but ony’s very business minded. his work is important to him.
he’s not only focused on career advancement and financial security, he’s focused on financial freedom too. he’s always been the type to provide, the type to work hard and play later. meetings, projects, and late nights at the computer are all very familiar to him. he’s working hard for his future, a future he hopes you’ll both be enjoying together.
because at the end of the day, he wants to come home to you. he wants you to have the ring and wedding of your dreams so you can feel like the princess that you are, the beautiful house that will home so many happy memories, and anything you fucking want. he’s willing to put all this work in for his career and you.
lately, though, ony can tell it’s taking an even heavier toll on you. that’s the opposite of what he wants. he wants you to feel at ease and free and peaceful. supported, loved, spoiled, and so on. it’s only right his baby feels on top of the world.
not neglected or alone, having to ask your friends to go with you to events because the tickets were already purchased but he had some deadline to meet. not being home alone so much, missing your man and his embrace.
and definitely not touching yourself every night because your man hasn’t had the energy and time to indulge in the way you both are used to.
it’s a big thing and he knows that.
his touch is like a balm to you, soothing the inner aches that seem so impossible for others to reach. he knows your body, and mind, and heart, and it shows every time he loves you in that king sized bed.
and the couch.
and the kitchen counter.
and anywhere else.
you’ve always had a healthy sex life, especially with the dynamic that you have, but the well is running dry because of the distance. there’s no connection, no outlet, no bonding. you miss his touch and touching him, and he the same for you. you hate to feel like a star crossed lover, but it’s getting to a point.
you know you have to try to talk to him. and really talk so he can’t just brush you off for work again.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
ony’s been doing a lot of research for a really big project. he’s interviewed people, read a thousand articles, made too many charts and graphs to count. it’s maybe the most important task he’s had to work on in a while since working with this company, so he’s using every last drop of energy to make sure everything’s perfect for the upcoming presentation.
you can see it in the way he barely has the energy to sip at his coffee.
“baby…” you start softly, reaching across the dinner table to hold his hand. it’s one of those nights where he’s attached to his computer, but still near you, wanting to enjoy your presence at the very least.
he immediately knows where this is going. he can hear it in the softness of your voice, the careful way you approach. if he could avoid talking about it, avoid seeing the concern in your eyes without feeling like a damn chump, he would.
“I know, babygirl,” he murmurs tiredly. knowingly. he gives your hand a soft squeeze before retracting his touch, his focus still on his laptop. “I know. but my boss needs this asap for the presentation. I can’t let her down. you know how important it is I get this promotion.”
you can’t help but let out a weary sigh. your hardworking, sweetheart of a man is putting himself through the damn wringer and his boss better appreciate that shit. “it’s important, I know. but everything’s been important. this project, the one before that, the one before that... when are you gonna take a break?”
“I take breaks,” he mumbles. he doesn’t mean to be stubborn. really, he doesn’t. he’s just had this goal in mind for so long, and now he feels like it’s finally in reach and… he can’t give up. he won’t.
“three minute power naps are not breaks. you know that,” you say sternly. “baby, this job is draining you. do they not already see how dedicated you are? if you haven’t earned that promotion by now, I don’t even know if you should work there anymore.”
that catches his attention. if anything, it triggers him, mind worn thin from countless hours of research. “are you kiddin’?” he asks, gaze snapping up to yours. “ain’t no way. all this shit I’m doin’ and you want me to go somewhere else?”
it’d be easy to get frustrated with his tone, but you push through. you’re coming from a place of concern and you want him to know that.
“that’s the point I’m trying to make, ony,” you press. “you’ve earned that position. you earned it months ago. hell, they should’ve given it to you in the first place. do you really wanna work like this for the next– however many years? you don’t think you’ll burn out?”
ony’s eyes close as he lets out a deep breath. knowing he needs to calm down before he releases his tired frustrations out on you, he sits back in his seat and drags his hands down his face. “this job can set me– set us up for life, baby. whether I stay with the company or not.”
you go to speak, but he cuts you off.
“I’m sorry, ᥫ᭡,” he says. his voice is weary, cracks of vulnerability showing in his exhaustion. “I am. I know you miss me and I miss you too. but I gotta do this. I can’t miss this opportunity. I’m doing what I have to for our family, baby. I’m doing all of this for us.”
“that’s the problem right there, ony,” you say, your voice firm but soft. “you think my concern is based on your presence and our time together when I’m concerned about your health. you’re withering away in front of me, and you expect me to think about our future? there won’t be a future if you keep at it like this.”
you can see the immediate reaction in his eyes, the concern filling them makes you want to pull him into bed to sleep for weeks.
“baby, what– what you talkin’ bout?”
“relax, papa,” you murmur, rising from your seat to walk over to his side. you close his laptop and slide into his lap to cradle his face. “I don’t mean it like that. we’re locked in forever, you ain’t gettin’ rid of me.
“I just need you to realize that nothing is more important than your health. not money, not our future, not any of that shit. I want you happy and healthy more than I want a diamond ring too heavy to wear,” you laugh softly.
ony’s eyes shut as he leans into your touch, soothed by your reassurance and concern. he hears you. but the beast that is ambition and anxiety mixed together is too heavy to let go of so easily. he’s so close...
“I’m serious,” you continue tenderly, as if you can read his mind. “this has to stop, ony. please. life’s too short to be neglecting yourself for a future that could change at any moment.”
his chocolate eyes open to meet yours, seeing the full range of your emotions in the pools he loves to get lost in. he wishes he could dive into you, get lost in your healing waters as he just rests. but thoughts of the future come flowing back in, and he can’t push them away.
he has to do more. his work has to be enough, he isn’t enough.
“maybe after this project, baby. they really need me for this one,” he responds.
of course.
the sigh you let out is weighted. your hands drop from his face before you stand from his lap.
“okay, onyankopon,” you murmur, defeat in your voice. he reaches out to stop you, mouth opening to give some empty reassurance you’ve probably already heard, but you’re out of the room before he can say anything.
he wants to groan, fuss, chase after you… but he only has so much energy left and several more spreadsheets to make and check over. so instead, he sighs the deepest sigh he can muster before opening his laptop again.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
another day. wednesday.
ony’s big presentation is today and he’s been spending all week pacing the house as he runs over the numbers repeatedly. he’s got this. he knows the information like the back of his hand and he knows he can give this presentation with full confidence. he’ll prove his value to the company, no doubt about it.
tired from staying up, he pours a strong ass cup of coffee before heading to the conference room.
“good morning, everyone,” he nods to the room. he sees executives and people in the high places he’s trying to reach and he hums lowly to himself as he makes his way to the computer. this is his chance and he’s not going to mess it up.
contrary to his previous anxious thoughts, the computer pulls up his presentation with no difficulties. the remote works fine, laser pointer in function, and speaker notes easy to access. he makes small talk with the people in attendance for the last few minutes before the scheduled start time.
his boss enters then, smiling as she greets everyone before taking her usual seat. she’s the picture of professionalism, and ony can feel the shift in the room as everyone adjusts their posture.
“alright, everyone, lets get started. onyankopon’s one of my best researchers, and I know we’re all excited about this project. he’s been doing amazing work, as always. the floor’s yours,” she says with a wave of her hand. the recognition is encouraging and he gives a small smile and nod.
“thank you, mrs. green. and thanks to everyone for your attention,” he starts. “I’ve prepared an in depth outline for our plan moving forward. please hold questions until the end, your concerns will more than likely be addressed in the following slide.”
he goes on to start the presentation, feeling more than confident. also tired as hell, but you wouldn’t guess it from the outside looking in. it’s engaging and he takes mental note of how focused everyone is. impressed glances, nods of rapt attention, amused smiles at ony’s creative thinking.
everything is going perfectly until the executive assistant enters in a rush.
ony pauses immediately, losing his flow. he can’t help but question the interruption. he takes notice of how the man scrambles over to his boss and talks quietly in her ear. the woman’s face drops in concern, her eyebrows furrowing as she nods along. the bumbling assistant quickly makes his exit.
mrs. green stands with a sigh and straightens her blazer. “I’m so sorry to do this. I know you’ve put in a lot of work, but I have to leave for the day. my child is severely sick and I need to get to them. we’ll reschedule this presentation for a later date, but really amazing work, onyankopon.”
ony’s stomach drops.
did he just hear that correctly? he feels like he has whiplash.
there’s no way he just did all of that preparing for her to just cancel when he’s almost halfway through. he’s having so many thoughts that he can’t even keep up with his own mind.
“um– yeah, of course,” ony nods stiffly. he figures there’s nothing he can do. “sometime this week?”
the woman shakes her head as she grabs her belongings. “my schedule’s too tight. I’ll ask my assistant when works best. again, I’m sorry, but you understand. family’s too important.”
with that, she leaves.
and ony’s stumped.
with his assumptions about the work culture of the company, he fully expected her to ask for a nanny, a babysitter, a someone to help.
but no.
no hesitations, no questions. ony can’t even blame her, but this is a jarring surprise. he’d expected pause or some consideration, but she moved on instinct. and no one’s even reacting, it’s like business as usual. granted, she’s the big boss, but…
ony’s still standing by the presentation screen.
he watches as everyone packs up their stuff and chats casually, speaking of well wishes to their boss as they make their way back to their respective offices. it’s all so relaxed. like ony hasn’t been preparing all week for that damn presentation.
it’s making him reevaluate everything.
after the meeting, he spends the rest of his day asking how his coworkers feel about it. he asks if people ever called out last minute or took extra time off, what the response was, the treatment after, how it affected their job… and he’s surprised that his perspective of his job was so wrong.
work-life balance is encouraged. it’s seen as a right. people have had the freedom to handle family emergencies and such with no affect to their job or how they’re viewed. people have taken mental health days with no problems. they’ve still raised in the ranks, been seen as star employees, gotten raises…
ony had never even considered leaving the office on time, let alone leaving in the middle of the day. he thought he had to hustle, to fight for recognition like most do with other companies. he feels stupid after everything he’s put himself and you through.
fuck. ony can feel his shoulders getting heavier with every realization.
you.
his babygirl, his love, his heart…
he’s driven himself crazy, trying to do everything in his power for the future he hopes to share with you. late nights, early mornings, working weekends… you’ve tried to ground him time after time, tried to get him to rest and relax and focus on the present, but he didn’t listen. he just kept pushing himself, trying to reach a goal that was of his own mental making.
just how much has he missed out on due to his own misunderstandings?
ᥫ᭡
that night, ony comes home only an hour after his scheduled time. he usually stays a few hours past, but he comes home, showers, and crashes right in the bed. you think he’s just exhausted or drained, actually catching up on rest before getting back to the grind, so you say nothing. you caress his back as you fall asleep next to him.
the days after are the same, though.
and the following saturday is a shock.
he’d unsurprisingly been working on the weekends too, sometimes going into the office and others working from home. you expect to hear his alarm ring bright and early, but it never does. he stays right beside you, arms holding you tight.
when you wake up, you think you’re dreaming.
”ony?” you ask groggily as you rub the sleep from your eyes. you‘re resting on his chest, his arms securely wrapped around your waist. he only grumbles incoherently in response and turns his head.
“nigga, I know you hear me,” you huff. “did you turn off your alarm? it’s almost twelve, we overslept. you overslept.”
“ain’t my name and ion care. c’mere and stop allat movin’,” he grumbles as his hand slides just below your butt, pulling you closer. he doesn’t even open his eyes, which shocks the hell out of you. you thought he’d give a bigger reaction.
“hello? did you hear me? you’re late, pa,” you try again, reaching to lightly tug his eyelid up with your finger. his pupil lazily shifts to look at you, an almost disturbing sight, before he reaches up to pull your hand away.
“heard you. I’m stayin’ in today.”
you blink. then you blink again. he just presses a soft kiss to your hand before he closes his eyes again.
“are you sick?” you ask, dumbfounded.
“no,” he grumbles. “baby, go back to sleep.”
“oh my God, you’re sick, aren’t you?” you question as you sit up in bed. “I need to check your temperature. it’s summer, but I can make you some soup. maybe I can make it cold? there are cold soups aren’t the—“
“ᥫ᭡,” he stops you, hand lazily sliding to your back. “I’m not sick, I promise. this project been stressful and I’m exhausted, so can we please go back to sleep?”
you stare at him for a moment, his slightly irritated expression almost making you want to say something slick. your shock should be understandable with the stark difference in his behavior.
but you can see the how weathered he looks. he really is drained and he can probably use all the sleep he can get. you’ll spare him. plus, if you can crawl back up into his side and cuddle the day away after such a long time of being distanced, you’ll jump at the chance.
“…okay. let me go use the bathroom first.”
you almost thought it would be a joke of some kind, but ony stays in bed all day. he goes in and out of sleep, clinging to you and grumbling if either of you have to move for any reason. it’s refreshing. extremely so.
you can’t even find it in you to complain for fear he’ll up and get on the clock again. the two of you just hold each other, basking in the embrace of your lover and soaking up the much needed affection. kisses, caresses, whispers of ”I been missin’ you.” it’s like a dam broke and you’re getting bathed in love and attention.
he’s still so quiet though. you can tell he’s thinking about something by the way he stares off into the distance. the way his brows pull together slightly, the ghost of a frown on his lips... you want to ask about it but don’t want to push. you just fall asleep in his arms again.
sunday comes and it’s the same.
ony stays in bed, going so far as to bring his rolling tray in from the living room to roll a blunt in bed.
when you return from the kitchen with your snack and see what he’s doing, you pause and purse your lips. “okay, what’s up with you? staying in two days in a row? rollin’ in the bedroom? what happened to ‘no smoking in the room’?”
he doesn’t really react. his gaze meets yours as he seals the blunt with a lick, expertly pearling it. the sight alone makes you want to jump his bones, but you’re too focused on figuring out what’s going on.
“come ‘ere, baby,” he mumbles quietly.
your eyebrows furrow, but you walk over to settle at his side. you wipe some lint from his face and caress his cheek, giving him your full attention. “what’s been on your mind, ony? was the presentation okay? you’ve been acting different.”
ony sighs as he lets himself relax at your touch. you’re just so… everything. you’re everything to him and he feels like he’s failed you.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. his voice is full of remorse as he looks down to the blunt in his hands, fiddling. he looks truly sad. the normal confidence and sureness in himself gone. you notice it in the way he won’t even meet your gaze. it’s unlike him.
“pa…” you start tenderly, hand still softly caressing his cheek. “what’s going on?”
his eyes meet yours then, emotions and turmoil apparent in the dark brown irises. “you deserve so much more than what I’ve been giving you the past few months. I haven’t been there for my baby like I promised I would.”
you’re shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence. “no, ony, don’t do that.”
“let me finish, princess. I need to say this. please?” he asks, signaling to you the severity of his feelings. “this ain’t a pity party. it’s a man admitting he fucked up.”
you don’t really have a choice when he uses that tone. you nod silently, choosing instead to rub his knee as a quiet show of support.
“I didn’t get to give my full presentation,” he mumbles with a lazy shrug. “the executive left for a family emergency; didn’t even think about it. she just left. all that work, all that draining myself, just to realize everyone around me don’t even make the same sacrifices. they ain’t got to. they all have balance and are thriving at home and at work. you know I hate comparin’ myself, but damn. knowin’ I’ve been doin’ all this shit, neglectin’ my home life and my love, my heart... it hurt and I needed time to process that.”
your eyebrows raise as you take in the information. you knew something had happened. the sound of regret in his voice, the way you can tell the guilt is weighing him down… it hurts to hear.
“I promised I’d take care of you, and you know I don’t take that lightly. but I’ve been… closed-minded. tunnelvisioned. you were right, baby,” he continues. his hand is now reverently rubbing your thigh, gripping it from time to time to help ground himself. “you tried to get me out of it, and I’m ashamed it had to come to that for me to really open my eyes.
“I let my thoughts of the future fuck with how I meet you now, and I’m ashamed of that. I hid my fear of not being enough, not providing enough, behind my ambition,” he shakes his head remorsefully. ”I wanna be a good man for you, baby. the best man. and sometimes the pressure of that gets to me, no matter how strong I am.
“so I mean it when I say I’m sorry. and thank you for being here, always. I don’t take that shit for granted, ᥫ᭡,” he presses, eyes locked on yours. it’s raw and honest and it’s easy to see he really needed to get it all off of his chest.
before you can even think to say anything, your arms are pulling him close. you feel him return the embrace tight, like he found something he’d lost. “oh, baby,” you murmur.
“you’re always tryin’ to carry the world by yourself, papa. you don’t have to do that. we’re partners,” you reassure him. “I see you, ony. I know you’re working hard for us. but I’m not just dead weight, you know? I ain’t just here to look pretty.”
“but you’re mine,” he murmurs, pulling back to look at you. there’s that stubborn frown again. you just want to massage it away. “I take care of what’s mine. you know that. I’m doing everything I do for us—“
“and you’re mine. or did you forget that part?” you tilt your head. “I say the things I say to you for you, which is ultimately for us. just because you’re my man doesn’t mean you’re running this show alone. I’m honestly starting to feel a bit insulted.”
“…insulted?”
“yes, insulted,” you state. “the fact that you think I’d let the love of my life carry all of our problems and run himself dry is crazy to me. I ain’t goin’ for it anymore. we are a team and I’m always gonna call you on your shit. that’s not just when you’re ‘wrong’ but it’s when you’re not takin’ care of yourself either.
“you said you’re ashamed that it came this far, well, so am I. I should’ve flicked you upside your big ass head when I first saw you headed in this direction. it was hard on all fronts, but the worst was watching you fight by yourself.”
you grab his face with your hands, gently but firm enough to slightly squish his cheeks. “I love you. we are a team. stop being so damn stubborn. shit,” you huff.
he blinks at you, lips puckered with the way you’re holding him. he swears in that moment he’s never wanted to marry you more. you’re a dream but also a beautiful reality, a merging of so much love and perfection that ony still can’t believe you’re his.
“you’re a man, I get it. you want to be this picture perfect image of a man that does all the hard stuff, does everything with no help. but this ain’t that,” you shake your head. “you’re human, papa. you’re not a superhero. you will burn out if you keep holding onto the thought that you’re pullin’ the wagon on your own.
“it’s me and you. this is what I expect from you. partnership. I might be your babygirl, and you might take the lead, but I’m not a trophy wife. I have my own job that I love, and I adore taking care of you just as much as you do me. I need you to understand that, onyankopon.”
ony could cry. he’s starting to see it now.
somewhere along the way, he took up the mantle of being everything. not because you asked him to, not even because he wanted to.
he’s afraid.
he’s afraid of losing you, of not being enough. he began to equate your love for him with how much he can provide. he began to equate his worth with how much he can be of service to others. he never thought that would be his driving force, but he sees now that anxiety can penetrate even the most fortified minds.
but you… you’re his fresh air. you’re as strong as you are beautiful. just because you let him lead, doesn’t mean you’re some damsel waiting in a tower. he always knew that, but it’s a jarring reality when your head’s been stuck up your own ass for several months.
“now. you’re gonna smoke that whole damn blunt by yourself. I’m gonna go cook a shit ton of food and you better eat till you physically can’t anymore. I’m taking care of you now. if you leave this bed, you’ll be fightin’ me. heard me?” you question.
he blinks again. and then nods.
“good. what do you want for dinner?”
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
things have been slowly moving in the right direction since that conversation.
ony’s been coming home at normal times, catching up on rest during the weekends, and making sure he shows love to you every chance he gets. he’s starting to look like himself again, energy levels raising more and more.
you’ve helped him tremendously. cooking his favorite filling meals, uplifting him when he gets those prickly thoughts of not doing enough, reminding him that you’ll always be there. he feels… doted on. it’s different from the usual dynamic between the two of you, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t adore it.
he’s used to being the attentive one. the one that carries the load, the man. but this whole situation has reminded him how intentional you are as a partner. it’s shown him that he can let go and not be perfect, that you’ll have his back when he can’t give the 110% he’s used to. he can depend on you the same way you can with him.
partnership.
that word has been ringing in his head ever since you said it. it fills him with a sense of belonging. relief. happiness. it makes him feel seen. home feels like home again. life isn’t so heavy.
and it looks good on you. you’re happy and looking at him with so much affection that he fights the urge to scoop you into his arms by the hour. you’ve been balanced and steadfast with your support, carrying the extra weight like it’s nothing. you pour from your heart, not from a place of expectation.
he should be recovering from his burn out, focusing on balance and new habits. and he is. but he’s constantly thinking about how much he loves you. how much he appreciates you. how much of an idiot he was to forget who you are.
he thinks about how he’s been through the wringer the past few months, and then smacked with realization after realization. you’ve been there through it all, since day one. he’s always focused on being the best man he can be, and he’s realized that he can only be his best with you. you’ve been there in his corner in ways he can’t let go of.
ever.
though to you, he’s still acting different than what you’re used to. you can tell he’s still in his head. you wonder if it’s because he’s still shaking the last traces of anxiety or if there’s something else on his mind. it’s a reflective state, so you’re giving him a chance to work it out himself before you drag him by his ear back to bed to chill the fuck out.
so when he brings up the idea of a lil weekend trip, just a chance for the both of you to get away after everything that’s happened and spend some quality time together, you jump at the opportunity. he needs it, you need it, everybody needs it. it’ll be a great opportunity to help him fully relax, and maybe you can figure out what’s got him in his head.
he chooses the airbnb and plans the trip, once again not letting you do a single thing. he doesn’t even let you pack. you go to chastise him for it, but he uses the excuse that he’s treating you for the past few weeks you’ve supported him a little extra.
ᥫ᭡
you immediately stretch when you exit the car, limbs reaching for the sky as a small squeak escapes your lips. “ugh, my ass hurts. did you really have to choose one so far away?” you ask brattily.
ony just hands you your purse with a small chuckle, not even mentioning the fact that you were either asleep or just no help the entire ride while he drove. “yeah, baby. I wanted to find a cabin for us. I think you’ll really like it,” he says warmly.
he knows you best, so you trust that this will be a great fucking trip. the smirk that crawls onto your face spells nothing but inappropriate intentions. “yeah? let me go check this shit out. see everything before the damage we’re about to do,” you smirk, making him laugh.
before you can turn to head towards the door, he stops you, voice calling out firmly. “nuh uh, bring that ass back. you know I gotta do my walk through. lemme get these bags first.”
you try not to rush him; he did just drive all the way and he’s being such a gentleman. it’s just hard when you know your vacation’s just on the other side of the door. you look around, already liking the looks of the location he chose. you ask about a cabin trip every time it’s time for a trip, and he chose a nice one.
“grab this for me, love,” he murmurs softly, handing you one of the lighter bags. you take it from his hand and he smiles at you before grabbing your shared suitcase and extra bags. “ready to go see the inside?”
“hell yeah,” you grin. you follow him, eyes scanning the front room as he sets the bags down. he begins his walkthrough, diligently checking every corner and room for a possible person or hidden camera. you follow behind him as he takes his time, admiring how focused he is and the cozy feel of the cabin. “this is perfect, pa. it’s so cozy and cute. hope we don’t get murdered or anything.”
ony lets out a loud laugh at that, always amused by you. “it’s safe here, baby, I promise. you know I brought my gun anyway,” he reassures with a smile. “everything’s good, we can get settled. wanna hear the plan?”
“there’s a plan?” you ask as you flop onto the bed. it’s so cozy, the blankets feather soft. you feel small in the king sized bed and you’re already thinking of the debauchery that’ll happen on it soon. maybe even in the next few minutes. “you’re always plannin’ shit. I thought we came here to relax. especially you.”
ony snorts as he sits next to you, easily tugging your form into his lap. you’re now sitting perpendicular to him, your legs resting over his thick thighs. he murmurs, “I plan so my girl ain’t gotta worry,” before he presses soft kisses to your cheek. you shiver at the tickle of his beard and turn your head so his lips meet yours.
“my man. always going above and beyond.” your voice is tender, your hand raising to softly tug at the hair on his chin. he just looks so good, so tempting. you can feel his hand start to trail up and down your thigh as he chuckles lowly.
his kisses follow the line of your neck until he gently pulls your earlobe between his teeth. you tilt your head with a sigh as he mumbles, “mhm, always for you. wanted to treat you. show my appreciation.
“I was gonna take you shoppin’, but not if you keep bein’ so damn touchable. I’ll put you through this mattress before we can fuckin’ unpack.”
his touch tingles in all the right ways, reminding you of how much you missed the depth of intimacy that used to be a usual routine. his words cause I jump in your gut. before you can fully melt at his touch, you’re quickly distracted. “shopping?” you perk up. “shopping where?”
“mmm, interested in the plan now, huh?” he teases, playfully nipping at your cheek. you lightly shove his face away as you laugh, feeling his arms wrap snugly around your waist. “we’re not far from the strip. figured we can grab somethin’ to eat, check out a couple shops… stretch our legs after that ride.”
“that sounds perfect. damn, you’re always on it, huh?” you smile. arms wrapping around his shoulders, you pull him close, enjoying the relaxing feel. “I’m definitely feeling stir crazy after all of that. let me shower and change and I’m all yours.”
he chuckles before giving you the gentle reminder, “you’re all mine anyway.”
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
it isn’t long before you’re fresh and clean, dressed in one of the pretty numbers that ony packed for you. he’s donned a coordinating outfit, always wanting to leave no room for doubt about who he belongs to. the two of you stroll hand in hand down the street, feeling rejuvenated already.
the weather is beautiful and warm and the sun is shining brightly. the shopping strip is alive with tourists and music and more shops than you would've guessed. homemade candles that fill the room with beautiful aromas, intricately carved crystals and handmade jewelry, a wide variety of restaurants to choose from… and you stick to your man’s side the whole time.
ony’s hand fimly grasps yours as he makes sure you stay on the inside of the sidewalk, away from the street. you both dance as you walk past bands playing live, your man making sure to twirl you around like the princess you are. you try so many different types of food, feeding each other and giggling goofily when the other makes a scrunched face of displeasure.
art galleries, antique shops, clothing stores. you put on fashion shows to show off the clothes for his input, and he the same for you. you both take probably a thousand pictures of everything that catches your eye. it’s everything the two of you need and a great first day of the trip. it feels more than amazing to spend this quality time together.
you feel like the battery for your relationship is charging, and it feels good.
by the time you get to the wine bar, your last stop for the day, ony’s arms are full of shopping bags. you feel bad but the sight of his veins and muscles from the slight strain make your mouth water.
“maybe we should just head back, pa,” you say softly. you rub his back as you gaze up at him, eyes warm but tired. “that’s too much to try to carry around, and I’m getting pretty tired too.”
he hums and bends to press his lips to your cheek. he can tell by your tone that you’re going to sleep good as hell tonight. “okay, pretty, we can come back tomorrow. it’s a bit of a walk back to the car, can you make it?”
“mhm,” you nod as he continues to kiss on you. the intimacy between you two is back on one hundred, and words can’t explain how good it feels. “which way is it?”
“this way,” he murmurs, jutting his head to the right. he guides you in whatever direction, your arm wrapping around his bicep. something catches your attention when you walk past the wine bar.
“is that a spa? shit, I’d love to go there,” you murmur, craning your neck to look inside as you both continue to walk. “look— they have natural springs!”
ony chuckles quietly to himself. hm. “it’s hot springs, baby, that’s kind of their thing. and we already have an appointment for tomorrow.”
“we do?” you beam, turning to look at him. he just knows you so well, it’s almost scary sometimes, but always incredibly endearing. he’s a good man and your man— simple as that.
he once again guides you to his side, away from the street. you grab a couple of the bags on his arms despite his quiet protest. “mhm, it’s set for tomorrow night. imma get your nails done and everything. full treatment for my princess.”
“oh, you must want the freakiest freak outta me that you can get. you really did your big one with this trip, huh? maybe you really did get your shit together.” you tease, lightly bumping his hip with yours. well, best you can with the height difference.
“oh, I want more than a freak, baby,” smirks softly. “but knowing you and everything we did today, you’ll be too tired. don’t even get my hopes up.”
you gasp at that and look at him with your jaw dropped. “don’t do me like that! I take care of you and that big ass d—“
“husshhh, girl,” he laughs, his voice cutting yours short. “we in public, chill. you right, you take care of me.”
you snicker at that. “damn right. don’t play with me like I ain’t got that.”
“oh, I know you got that. but don’t play like I ain’t got it either,” he smirks, raising his eyebrow. “or do you need a reminder real quick? won’t be able to walk tomorrow, though.”
you kiss your teeth and jokingly roll your eyes. “whatever, ony. always gotta make shit about you.” the laugh he lets out is diabolical.
the two of you continue to walk, the only sounds being your steps and the occasional swish or crumple of one of the bags. the sun’s setting in the distance and it’s a beautiful sight, pinks and purples painting the sky.
“I really appreciate all of this, baby,” you speak gently. “I’m glad we can have this time together. everything’s been amazing, but all I really need is you, you know? I missed you even though you were right there.”
his heart clutches in his chest. even as he consistently shows that he’s dedicated to being better with his changed actions, looking back on that time is still a sore spot. he was so misguided. but both the situation and you showed him what he really needed to see.
“I know, sweetheart. I hope you know how important that is to me too,” he expresses. “it’s everything. I didn’t show it in the way I should’ve and I let my fear get to me. but this… this right here is my world.”
him and his words, tugging at your heartstrings and shit. you squeeze his arm tighter and sigh, positively overwhelmed with the day. it feels like a dream. “I love you,” you murmur softly.
“I love you. and I mean that with everything.”
ᥫ᭡
soft silk. skin on skin. gentle, whispered words.
it’s a bubble. a safe haven of warmth and security. ease and peace. it surrounds you in all the best ways, consumes you but doesn’t inspire fear.
it’s just so warm.
and soft.
and it…
smells like bacon?
“wakey, wakey, baby,” ony murmurs, his touch following shortly. with a gentle caress of your cheek, he rouses you from your rest. you groan softly as your eyes flutter open. you’re met with ony’s warm gaze, the man still clad in your matching pajamas from the night before.
“noooo, we’re on vacation, we’re supposed to sleep in,” you mumble before nuzzling your face into your pillow. it’s just so soft you could sink into it, you wonder if the host will tell you what kind they are.
ony lets out an amused snort and turns to the side table. demanding thing you are. “it’s past twelve, baby. I ordered brunch,” he murmurs simply. he lifts a platter and carries it to the bed, placing it on your lap, and your mouth waters at the sight of the food.
“oh,” you murmur, not realizing the time. you guess you had to get up eventually, but you were having a good ass dream. you look at all the food then, taking in the several options before you. “you got me all this? I know I like being spoiled and all but…”
“it’s for both of us, don’t piss me off,” he pinches your cheek. “we did too much fuckin’ walkin’ yesterday. when I get in this bed, I’m stayin’.” you laugh at his words as he slides back into the spot next to you, careful not to jostle the bed too much.
“yeah, whatever. as long as I get to try some of everything,” you say back, bumping your shoulder with his. he bumps you back, but you’re more focused on picking your fork up to try a bite or seven.
just as expected, the food is amazing. you both immediately hum at the taste, nodding in approval. the next few moments are quiet as you both stuff your faces, chewing and crunching in tandem.
“damn…” ony pipes up, a smirk on his slightly greasy face. “know shit good when it get quiet.”
“don’t make me choke on my food,” you laugh as you cover your mouth. he’s right though. the people that live in this town are lucky that they get to eat at whatever restaurant the damn feast is from.
your man chuckles warmly as you reach to wipe his face, turning to ask you, “we got a few hours before we need to head to the spa, and we can go to that wine bar right after. we’ll pack some clothes to change into. anything you wanna do before then or you just wanna chill?”
“hm,” you hum in thought. honestly, you’re still beat from the day before. so many stores, so much walking that your feet are still sore. a spa trip is all that’s on your mind. “nah. do you wanna do anything? I feel like it’s been more about me since we got here.”
ony pauses at that, looking straight at you. you’re serious?
“well, yeah,” he deadpans. it’s almost like that’s the whole point. he can’t help but tease you a bit for what he considers to be a silly thought. “I brought you here to spoil the fuck outta you. issue?”
“okay, don’t get smart. here I am tryna be considerate and shit. I take it back.”
“that ain’t really somethin’ you can take back…”
“well, I’m takin’ it back.”
“no refunds, lady.”
“ony!” you laugh, lightly smacking his arm. “I’m serious! this is about us. quality time and all that. this trip isn’t just for me, it’s for you too. now, speak up. I know there’s somethin’ you wanna do.”
ony laughs, amused by your stubbornness. it’s one of the reasons he loves you so. “okay, okay. uhhh. I’m still tired, to be honest. I just wanna chill with my girl.”
you respond with a satisfied humph and a nod of your head. “then that’s what we’ll do. get cozy, or else.”
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
the next several hours are spent in bed, cuddling in each others arms. it’s a wonderful feeling just to be wrapped up in him, and you can’t help but sit in appreciation for everything. he really planned the trip so perfectly, you have only praises.
ony puts some random show on that captures you both, but only for a while. soon the sound of your voices covers the low volume of the tv as conversation blooms.
you talk about any and everything. from the day you first met, to your favorite childhood memories, to updates in the friend group that you hadn’t talked about in depth yet. you remain wrapped up in each other, touches soft and reverent, as you just enjoy the calming presence of one another.
eventually, you migrate from the bed to the living room, having a quick lunch before getting ready for your joint spa appointment. the thought of a soothing massage, a fresh nail set, and a trip to the wine bar has you damn near bouncing off the walls. your excitement is more than obvious, and ony has to hold back a laugh several times as he packs a bag with fancy clothes for the wine tour.
when you arrive at the spa, it’s much fancier than it seemed from the outside, which is saying a lot. the two of you are immediately and pleasantly greeted and guided to a luxurious room in the back to prepare.
soft robes, slippers, and refreshing water secured, you both meet eyes and playfully grin. it’s not your first couple’s massage, but it’s been a while, so you’re both excited as hell.
everything’s going so smoothly…
until ony’s damn phone rings.
you squint, watching him turn to go back to his locker. you stand in the doorway while he digs in his bag, and notice a nervous change in his face when he sees the screen.
“shit. I’m sorry, baby, I gotta take this. it’s the office,” he murmurs, eyebrows pulling together.
it’s a trigger, almost. not to such an extreme, but you feel a familiar disappointment starting to tug at you. “ony, are you serious? we’re just about to get started,” you frown.
“I know, I know, but it’s urgent,” he presses. “they wouldn’t call if it wasn’t. not after I've made my boundaries clear.”
“ony. you are not leaving to go take a work call,” you fuss, trying to keep your voice down. you watch as he gives a sad frown, almost like he’s holding back. but then his phone rings again and he holds up a finger, walking into the hallway.
“ony. onyankopon,” you whisper yell after him. when the door closes, leaving you alone, you huff a sigh and sit.
this is absolutely ridiculous. everything was literally going so damn perfectly, but here he goes on bullshit again. and only minutes before your spa appointment!
when the door opens and ony slides back into the room, the look you give him is lethal. he can only let out a deep sigh. “I need to go back the the cabin,” he says quietly.
“oh. oh, wow,” you scoff, crossing your arms. “you’re on vacation, ony. what the fuck happened to work/life balance? after everything? I’m not doing this shit with you again—“
“hey, hey,” he says softly, walking over to you. he reaches to cup your cheek with one hand and wraps his other arm around your waist. “I’m not going back to where I was, okay? this is temporary.”
he looks like he wants to say more, but stops himself short. “you’ll see. haven’t I been showing you that I’m dedicated to doing better? than you can trust me to be mindful?”
he’s met with a frown and the crossing of your arms.
“relax, baby, I swear this is it for the whole trip. I don’t use that word lightly. you know that,” he reassures, caressing your cheek soothingly. “I really am sorry, love. I’ll be as quick as I can. how about you stay here, yeah? I’ll get you when I finish up.”
he sees the frustration in your eyes, and he leans to press his lips against your forehead. he feels awful for making you feel this way, regardless of the situation. but it’s necessary. “trust me. I promise you’ll have all of me after this, okay? all of my attention, all of my love, all of my time. I swear.”
you sigh and look to the side, fighting the frustration you feel. you take a moment to mentally acknowledge and appreciate the fact that he really has been stepping back from work like he promised. not staying late, no work on the weekends, taking proper care to do better than the past.
he means what he says, you know that. his actions prove his intentions, that’s just the type of man he is. he just needs to finish something up, and then the vacation can resume like planned. it’s annoying as absolute fuck, and upsetting no matter how mature you try to be, but the main thing is that it’s temporary.
“fine,” you mumble. your gaze turns to meet his, firm and steady. “but you’re making this up to me as soon as we get back to the spot. I mean it.”
he smiles in a way that’s so sure. “I was already planning to. don’t let me stress you out. these cucumber slices cost too damn much for you to be worried about me.” the small smile he gets in return smooths over any anxiety of you being upset, despite the fact that you try to hide it.
”take this time for you, okay? just have some time to yourself. rest, recharge, all that without me breathin’ down your neck. you deserve it.” he presses his lips against yours in a loving kiss. “I love you,” he murmurs warmly. “and I appreciate your understanding. I won’t take it for granted.”
“yeah, yeah, whatever,” you mumble before you pull him into another brief kiss. “go handle business. then you can handle me.”
he laughs at that, the sound a deep reverberance from his chest. “and I will. believe that. text me when you finish up, and don’t forget to get all dolled up for me so we can go to the wine bar. call me if you need me, okay?”
ᥫ᭡
the spa appointment was definitely what you needed. your muscles feel loose and relaxed, your skin extra smooth and moisturized from head to toe, and your nails look a bit too good for a nail tech you’ll probably never see again.
it’s hard not to be a bit bitter, just wanting your man by your side. this was supposed to be for you both. but honestly, you have spent a lot of time right up under each other the past couple of days. and there’s always the hot tub back at the cabin.
and even though he left and couldn’t do the spa treatment, you’re still looking forward to this wine bar. you get dressed in yet another pick by ony, and no surprise, it’s gorgeous. the look paired with the way you feel after some quality self care is almost unbeatable.
as you exit the backrooms and pull your phone out to call ony, a voice calls after you, slightly rushed. you’d packed your stuff up so fast, ready to go, and she’d been trying to catch you. “ma’am? ma’am, just a second, please.”
you turn at the sound of her voice and give her your attention. “yeah? did I leave something?” you ask politely.
“no ma’am, I— um, I forgot to offer you some complimentary champagne for your visit. would you like me to pour you a glass?”
your eyebrow raises at that. normally you wouldn’t say no to some bubbly, but the thought of the wine bar is pressing. a fancy space, some time with your man, and some highly rated food and drinks? you’ll pass. “um, I wasn’t aware that was a thing. I think I’ll pass, thank you.”
“are you sure?” she presses. “it’s extremely quality, and you can sit and enjoy it in our lounge. why don’t you come take a look?”
hm. pushy lady. she must get paid well.
“yeah, no thank you,” you repeat. “I appreciate it, I just have plans. thank you for your hospitality, though.”
she falters at your reply, looking as though she wants to say something else. your attention is redirected to your phone as you press ony’s contact.
“pa, I’m done at the spa,” you say when he answers. “come get meee. I wanna go to the wine bar.”
ony almost crashes out, but he keeps himself in line. “shit, already? I didn’t think you’d be done for another half hour. I can’t come get you, baby.” he’s already flinching at just the thought of your response.
the face you make would be funny if the situation wasn’t what it is. “the fuck you can. what’s so damn important that you can’t pause to come get me?” you frown, dropping your bag on one of the lobby seats. you can excuse earlier, but this is too much. he just reassured you that his priorities are in order.
“just— I’m sending a lyft for you, okay? I have to wrap something up.”
“ony—”
“trust me, baby. just let me call a car for you.”
you scoff. it’s actually getting to be a bit much, especially since you just spent all of that time relaxing and letting go. ”this is fuckin’ ridiculous. we didn’t come all this way for your attention to still be on work.”
“baby—“
“just send the damn car, ony. and you better keep an eye on my location,” you huff before hanging up. you turn to the speak to the masseuse, who quickly looks away as she pretends to not be listening. “actually, I would like a glass of champagne, thank you. a bottle if you can spare it.”
you definitely plan to be a brat in the lounge until you see just how nice it is. calming music, a beautiful fountain, a bottle of champagne waiting for you… it’s really hard to be mad when you’re sipping on expensive drinks after your man paid for every single thing, including your dress and nails and hair. you want to pout. if only here were here.
it’s not long before you’re in the uber back to the cabin. you use the ride time to properly gather your words so you can explain to your man everything he did to piss you off in such a short amount of time. this was supposed to be a trip for both of you to relax, and he’s once again letting work get the better of him.
ᥫ᭡
arriving at the cabin, you take a breath. clear communication is the goal. you don’t want to make him feel bad, but you need to express yourself after what just happened. you walk to the front door with a little extra speed in your steps, mumbling under your breath. “nigga better be ready to hear this mouth. done left me at the place by my damn self. on vacation. after everything. damn shame.”
you open the door, fully prepared to call out to him so you can fuss, but stop short when you see a trail of rose petals starting at the doorway. it’s like your brain empties all coherent thoughts. you just freeze in place, looking down at how the petals smush under your feet.
there’s music playing, you notice in your frozen state. it’s you and ony’s song, alex isley’s “love again.” you can hear quiet snaps here and there, and you look up to see a smiling photographer taking picture after picture.
your heart is racing and your brain’s still not working.
“ᥫ᭡,” you hear a voice call from the other side of the room. your gaze slowly follows the flowers below you until they meet ony’s shoes. you look up and up and up and… there he is. standing in the living room, furniture cleared with a pool of rose petals scattered everywhere.
he’s dressed up, looking mouth watering-ly handsome as he holds a big bouquet of red and pink flowers. he’s watching you with eyes filled with a love you can feel from way too many feet away.
love… and nervousness.
what the fuck.
no, what in the actual hell.
“close the door, pretty,” he says warmly, his voice tender and so damn soft. you follow his instruction mindlessly, the cabin door closing behind you. you continue to stare at him with wide eyes, swallowing as realization starts to dawn on you.
your voice is thick with emotion when you speak. “ony…”
he just smiles warmly as he adjusts the flowers in his hand. with all this planning, he tried to keep everything as inconspicuous as he could. redirecting your thoughts of what the trip was really about, pretending to book a couples spa when it was really just for you, roping the spa workers into his plan…
it all worked. he hated lying, it actually made his chest hurt to see the disappointment on your face and hear the frustration in your voice when he “bailed” on you for work, but it worked.
he got you.
“come here,” he says softly, holding a hand out to you.
your heart is still beating, beating, beating in your chest, and you have to force yourself to take a deep breath. “ony…” you repeat, your voice shaky. you’re still frozen in place.
he just continues to smile, endeared as he takes in your surprised demeanor. the taller man takes slow steps towards you without breaking eye contact. the flowers are tight in his nervous grip, but he tries not to show how he’s feeling.
you let out another breath when he reaches you, and he carefully removes your bag from your arm. he sets it down gently before he turns back to you. his arm extends, presenting the giant bouquet to you.
“you gone leave me hangin’?” he asks softly.
“no,” you choke out as your eyes fill with tears. “I—… ony…”
“c’mere, baby.”
you feel yourself being tugged into his arms and you hug him tight as tears start to fall. “I’m sorry I lied to you,” he mumbles softly. “I won’t again, I promise. you’re just too intuitive, you know? I wanted to surprise you but yo ass always catchin’ me before I can, so…”
he lets out a breath as he squeezes you tighter in his arms. “walk with me. I got you,” he says softly. he pulls back to see his pretty girl’s face, taking in how you look up at him with so much love. he gently wipes your fallen tears and reaches for your hand. “ready?” he asks quietly. you nod, sniffling softly.
he walks you down the path of petals, keeping you close to him. the music continues to fill the room and you can smell the candles that you picked out from the small business you both went to the day before. your heart’s racing in your chest and your emotions are overflowing.
he really did get you.
he leads you to the center of the room, hand never leaving yours. you both take a deep breath when you reach a stopping point, looking at each other. he goes to speak, but realizes he still has the flowers in his hand.
“hold on,” he murmurs as he searches for somewhere to set them. you can hear the nerves in his voice and see how he fumbles slightly. it’s cute. heart-warming. eventually he just decides to set them on the kitchen counter.
when he gets back, he takes both of your hands in his. you smile at him, reassuring him as your thumbs caress his hands. it’s a gesture he appreciates, something small to help ease his nerves. he takes another breath to settle himself before he speaks.
“ᥫ᭡,” he starts warmly. his eyes are deep pools of genuine reverence. “the love I have for you can’t really be put into words. it’s why I show you every chance I get. it’s why I do everything that I do. because you deserve to know just how adored you are by me, every second of every day.
“ever since that day you first walked into my life, you’ve had me. it didn’t take me time at all to realize that you’re the only woman I could ever want. you’re the woman I’ve dreamed of, the woman I prayed for. your heart and soul are golden, especially in a word like ours. I see you for who you are. caring, kind, vulnerable… funny, attentive, dedicated, and real. I’ve seen you grow. I’ve seen you love. I’ve seen you cry, and I’ve seen you succeed.
“you’re everything,” his voice cracks. “you’re my sun and stars, my moon and galaxy. you’re a warm hug and an oasis of peace. you’re my laughter, you’re my joy, and you’re my future. you inspire me. you turn everything you touch into gold, baby.
“with you in my life, I feel like I’m being rewarded for something I’m not even aware of. I can’t believe that someone like you could ever exist, let alone want me the way you do. I’ve never felt so seen and I’ve never felt like I fit with a partner so effortlessly. we listen to each other, we communicate, we stick through the tough times, but we have fun through everything.
“I lost sight of that earlier this year, and I can admit that. I forgot that I never have to perform for you, that I don’t have to be on a constant working wheel. I never wanted to neglect you, I’ve just always wanted to give you the absolute best that I can offer because you deserve no less. but you reminded me, love. you reminded me about our foundation of partnership, how I’m not in this alone. and you supported me when I needed to readjust myself. I can never thank you enough for that.
“I can’t explain how at home I feel with you. I feel most myself with my babygirl by my side, and I love how you can be your most genuine, open self with me too. I love being your safe space, your man, and whatever else you want me to be. I want to be all of that for you and more, always. I want to be your shoulder to cry on. I want to carry you through the dark times. and I want to lean on you too.
“I wanna be your husband, baby,” he says softly. “I wanna be yours forever. you’re too good to let go of, and I never intend to do so.”
you’re a mess of tears. you can barely even make out his face as he gets on one knee, hand sliding into his pocket. “oh, ony,” you say softly, one hand raising to land on your beating chest.
“I love you, ᥫ᭡. I want nothing more than to call you my wife,” he says warmly. he opens the box, revealing a gorgeous ring. “will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
you don’t even hesitate.
“yes!” you nod frantically, immediately holding your hand out to him. “God, ony, there was never a doubt in my mind. yes!”
you’re a puddle of sobs as he slides the ring onto your hand. it’s a perfect fit, and you don’t even allow time to wonder how. you just immediately wrap your arms around his shoulders in a hug.
he lifts you into his arms as he stands, holding you close to his heart. “thank you, baby. I promise I’ll love you with everything in me,” he murmurs deeply, voice wavering from the emotions of it all.
“you already do,” you sniffle, pulling back to look at him. he’s still holding you off the ground, tight in his embrace, as you reach to cradle his face. you press your lips to his and pour all of your feelings into it the kiss. he returns it with just as much fervor.
you pull back to look at him adoringly, caressing his cheek. “the love we have is something I’ll never seek to replace. I’m yours, ony,” you whisper softly.
he grins then, his own eyes wet with tears. his arms remain tight around you as he twirls your form around, making you squeal and laugh.
he gently sets you back onto your feet, smiling down at you. “my lady,” he says warmly. after all of this time connecting, learning each other, loving each other, he can finally call you his forever. he leans to press another kiss to your lips as he wraps his arms around your waist.
when you hear the door close, your eyes blink open, turning to look over your shoulder. “s’just the photographer, baby,” he explains, hand rubbing up and down your back.
you hum and turn back to look up at him, smiling as you both enjoy being on cloud 9. he reaches to wipe your remaining tears with a gentle touch. “I can’t believe you actually fucking got me,” you laugh softly.
“shit was hard. know you wanted to beat my ass for leaving you up there,” he snorts. just thinking of your tone when you were talking to him on the phone has him cringing. “but it’s all okay now. I’ve got my fianceé and I don’t really give a shit about anything else.”
“I know that’s right,” you giggle, kissing him softly. “I was gonna come in here and chew you out, but I’m so happy I didn’t have to. I’m so blessed to have you, my ony.”
ony’s heart flutters in his chest. your ony. that’s right. yours and only yours.
“you’re still taking me to the wine bar, though, right?” you ask with a raised brow. he laughs at that, head tilting back, but you’re seriously still thinking about that place. have been since you saw it.
“yes, baby, we have a reservation for tomorrow. I just wanted to spend tonight with just you. that okay?”
you smile, but you’re lowkey irritated. of course he already booked a reservation. he really planned everything to a t and you had not a clue. “‘course it is. I still can’t believe you fuckin’ got me, big head.”
he snickers and pinches your side teasingly. “yeah, I did that shit. got you cryin’ like a baby.”
“alright, that’s enough of that,” you squint up at him. “you cried too.”
“yeah, yeah, whatever,” he chuckles. “c’mon, I know you hungry. I have dinner for us.”
ᥫ᭡
visual. visual. visual.
it’s unreal.
the candles on the table create an intimate vibe, the petals are scattered everywhere, and your man is right across from you, holding your hand as you talk and eat.
it’s beyond intimate. you’ve never felt this way before. the level of dedication between the two of you has deepened in a heavily serious way, and it’s a sensation that‘s so unfamiliar.
you’re engaged.
you have to let that settle. it’s not something you’ve come to terms with. every time you lift your left hand or move it in any way, you feel the weight of the ring. it’s a reminder, a symbol that you get to wear not only for yourself, but for your fiancé. your future husband.*
the love of your life, the man that will hopefully be the father of your kids, the partner you always prayed for but doubted the existence of. it’s heavy, but it’s a weight you carry with pure happiness, adoration, and intention.
ony’s not on cloud nine, he’s in heaven. his lady, his future wife, his world is on the same page as him. partnership. marriage. dedication. he’s so lucky— so blessed to have someone that sees all of him, understands, and is still dedicated beyond belief to loving him forever.
he can’t wait to share this with the world. he’s so excited to marry you. he can’t believe that there were times that he doubted you’d say yes, but your agreement is a testament to where both of you are planning for your future.
the both of you are giddy.
your emotions hit you like a wave over and over as you’re repeatedly overwhelmed with gratitude. this man, the love of your life, is yours. he wants to be yours, not just for now, but for forever.
“baby, don’t cry,” he murmurs warmly, reaching across the table to wipe your tears once again. “my love’s feeling a lot right now, hm?”
you sniffle and nod, leaning into his touch. “I’m just… really happy, pa. that’s all.”
ony hums softly, caressing your cheek. his sweet girl. he’s so grateful that everything went as planned. “you deserve all of this and more. I’m dedicated to loving you like this forever, ᥫ᭡.”
“if you’re trying to stop my crying, you’re doing a bad job,” you laugh through your tears, reaching to softly clear them. he smiles and pulls back to step around the table and slide into the spot next to you. wordlessly, he pulls you to him.
your arms wrap around ony as you rest your head on his shoulder. as your eyes close, you feel him softly rub your back. the silence is soft and welcome, and you could stay like that forever. just being held by your fiancé.
moments later, a kiss is pressed to your forehead. “I’m gonna clean up, baby. why don’t you head to the bedroom and wait for me?”
your breath hitches softly. the mention of the bedroom after the high of the trip, the proposal, the wine, the overwhelming amount of love you feel… your eyes meet his as you pull back, finger softly trailing down his chest. “I can help,” you say softly. ”or you can just… leave it.”
his gaze is low lidded. the corner of his lip tugs upwards just slightly. “we’re in the woods surrounded by all types of wildlife that love leftovers. you stay here and I’m taking you on this counter. not very romantic, hm?”
giggling softly, you feel your face warm. with a shake of your head, you lean to kiss the man tenderly. “I wouldn’t mind,” you say softly. your breath tickles his skin and you can feel how his hand squeezes you just a bit tighter.
“go, princess,” he murmurs lowly, voice slightly quieter. “I won’t say it again. be ready for me.”
your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth and you nod before giving him another simple kiss. you go to pull away, but his hand slides up into the curls at your nape, cradling the back of your head as he deepens the gesture momentarily.
you whimper in surprise as he takes control, tilting your head and taking your breath away. it’s overpowering and raw and sexy. it’s making your stomach swirl with deep arousal.
he pulls back from the kiss, but tugs your bottom lip with his teeth as if he was jealous you did it on your own. you moan and arch into him as he gently sucks until he releases it with a pop.
fuck.
you look to him with labored breathing and he looks at you as if you hung the moon, pleased with how dazed you are.
“go.”
you don’t hesitate to follow instructions. you purse your lips, silent from the kiss, and pull back from him. he watches you closely, like he’s just drinking up your form. you don’t feel his eyes leave you until you’re in the bedroom and out of sight.
“shit,” you mumble to yourself. you can tell where your future is headed, not just for the years coming, but for the night as well.
he’s about to absolutely ruin you, and you’re about to let him. shit, you’ll probably beg him.
you take a deep and begin to undress, revealing the black lace set you are tremendously grateful you wore with the dress. it’s snug and sexy and you know ony’s going to love it.
you sit on the rose petal cover bed and back up to rest in the middle. your heart’s racing— and you can feel your other pulse throbbing between your thighs. you can only imagine how intimate it’s going to be to make love to your fiancé for the first time.
footsteps approach sooner than you thought. you can only guess that it’s the shared anticipation of the night fueling you both.
when you hear the door open, your gaze lifts to meet you lovers. his eyes are dark in the low lighting, and the way they sweep over your form so reverently makes you want to speed things up.
but it’s obvious in the slow way that he approaches— he’s going to take his time tonight. few complaints on your end. the slower he moves, the more your fire burns.
”you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasps when he comes to the foot of the bed. it’s like you’re being given to him on a silver platter, his own personal angel.
no, not an angel.
because the things he’s going to do to you tonight… he can never utter them for fear of tainting another’s soul.
he breathes out as he begins to undress, dazed and captivated by you beyond belief. “just… stay there. let me look at you,” he says breathlessly. your face warms in response and you can’t help but look away. he stops you before you can.
“look at me. please,” he murmurs. his desperation is only for your ears, and he wants to see you, see all of you and your reactions when you have each other tonight. he doesn’t want you to look away. you can’t look away.
your gazes meet once more and he crawls onto the bed in his bare state. contrary to your belief, your heart can beat faster. you notice as the distance closes between your bodies.
when your eyes meet his, he has a physical reaction. even with only the touch of your gaze, he feels himself jump. “just like that,” he murmurs lowly. “don’t look away.”
he continues to crawl up the bed until he’s right up against you. he manipulates your body until you’re lying on your back, straddling his waist as he leans his arm on the headboard above you.
“so beautiful,” he whispers, one hand descending to slowly caress from your knee up your thigh. he lets out a soft breath as he presses his pelvis against yours, your underwear separating you from the proximity you really want.
”all mine,” he mumbles. “let me show how grateful I am, yeah?”
you can’t respond because he bends to press his lips to yours. this brings you closer, his chest pressing against yours and his hips pressing harder. the sensation makes you gasp as your hands find purchase on his shoulders.
but when you feel his hips start to wind against yours? you can’t help but moan, your eyebrows pulling together. he’s hard, and you can feel the pressure of it through the thin material of your panties. he tries a few different motions of his hips, searching through the channels of your body until he finds the ones that make you have the biggest reactions.
softer, faster, harder, slower. you can feel the fabric of your bottoms getting wetter and wetter as he teases you. he leans to take your lips, tongue sneaking into your mouth to dance for an intimate moment before he pulls back. he has the audacity to mumble, “look at me.”
a short moan escapes you as your eyes gaze into his, his hips still a constant wave against yours. the look on his face is something you hope to remember for years to come. he already looks so gone. focused on your body so much that it’s all he can think about. all he can feel is you.
“you think I can make you come like this?” he asks huskily. there’s a sound slowly becoming more and more audible, the slickness between the two of you building. “I should. you deserve to come as many times as your body wants to. imma give you that.”
your arms wrap around his shoulders as he continues to grind into you, responding to every breath and moan like he understands a language that only you speak.
“m’talkin’ to you, love,” he breathes, pressing a hand against your back to encourage you to arch against him. “you don’t wanna talk to daddy? m’not doin’ enough? tell me.”
you whine then, your pussy throbbing against him as his words continue to stimulate you. “fuck- just… ah, keep going,” you breathe out, pulling him closer. his lips meet yours briefly before his hand slides to your hip, pressing you against him more.
“whatever you say, mama,” he mumbles, hips slowly moving to keep himself in a constant press against your clit. he moves to have one arm around your neck and the other up your back. his hand finds home in your nape again, holding you to his chest.
“just feel it,” he breathes. “just feel me. you do this to me, baby. no one else. this is yours. I’m yours.”
you take in his words, your eyes fluttering shut. “shit,” you murmur, your legs wrapping around his waist. he’s just so perfect and he knows how to hit all of your spots. the way he talks, the way he feels, everything is just right.
but it’s not enough. it’s not getting you where you need it to reach. “please, I- more. I want more, ony.”
“you want me to eat her? hm?” he asks lowly, hips deepening their waves against you. “wanna put that pretty pussy on my face?” you exhale as he moves against you, nodding quickly.
“come feed her to me then,” he mumbles, using his position to lift you in his arms as he sits back on the bed. the look in his eye is a mix of desire and a subtle determination. ”c’mon, baby. put that ass in my face.”
your breath catches, but you move nonetheless. he leans back to rest against the bed, dark brown eyes staring intently into yours until you move to face away from him, completely bare as you carefully straddle his face. “don’t piss me off,” he mumbles gruffly, moving you by your thighs to bring you close.
“s’my shit,” he mumbles. he brings you to smush against him, tongue instantly searching for your bundle of nerves. the tip of his tongue swirls against your clit slowly, an agonizing tease to get your attention.
ah, fuck. you have to prepare yourself. if there’s one thing this man knows how to do, it’s eat some pussy. “ony,” you press, rocking your hips back in a request for more.
“relax,” he mumbles, using his hands to spread your cheeks apart. “take deep breaths and relax your body, baby. let me eat her right.” he flicks a quick few licks against your clit before puckering a kiss against it. you release a deep, long moan as he sucks gently before releasing it with a pop. “slow breathing, princess.”
you force yourself to take deep breaths as you clutch the sheets on either side of you. his hands caress and squeeze your thighs and ass as he pulls you closer and closer against his face. he shakes his head in a quick motion before he gets to work.
the moan that escapes you is more of a squeal as he goes to town, lapping and sucking at your heat like it’s his last meal. he tongue moves in different motions— flicks and circles, as he slurps and spits. it’s sloppy, it’s wet, and your keening above him as he makes your toes curl.
“fuck, papa, you eatin’ me so good,” you pant, starting to rock your hips back and forth. his arms hook under your thighs and wrap around your waist, pressing you even closer as he groans. the vibrations make you squeak, and you lurch forward and away, only to be brought right back.
ony just can’t get enough. he’s sure his eyes are rolled back as he continues to dive in, your juices dripping down the sides of his mouth as he demands more. it’s what he needs, he needs you to give everything to him. he needs to pleasure your body as much as he can, more than he ever has.
your moans are drawn longer and longer as you get closer to the edge. “fuuuck, ony,” you cry out. his hand comes down and slaps against your ass, an action that makes your pussy jump as he continues to eat you up. your hips grind and grind as he slurps and groans.
when he pulls back and licks a stripe from your clit to your ass, you body freezes as your toes curl. he spreads your ass and dives into giving it the same treatment, fingers shifting to circle your clit.
“mmshit—“ you choke, hands moving to grasp his legs below you. “daddy, that’s… haaa, fuck. s’too much! that’s— ngh!”
when your orgasm crashes over you, he drinks it all up as he squeezes your ass, holding you to him as you moan and cry out. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” you ramble, your hand reaching back to press against the back of his head. “ohhhh, my God, ony!”
he shakes his head again, wringing as much pleasure out of you as possible. you pant as your eyes roll back, hips jumping in overstimulation as you fall forward. you’re left bare to him. letting him pull every drop of pleasure from your both with just his mouth and hands.
as you try to catch your breath and your sanity, his hands move over your body, massaging and caressing everywhere he can reach. “fuck,” he rasps. “taste so damn good. I’m damn near addicted to you, baby.”
all you can do is pant, your leg twitching slightly in the aftermath. it’s insane how you feel, so weak-limbed and short of breath and he hasn’t even taken you yet.
he shifts your body again, his touch gentle as he moves with awareness of your sensitive state. he places you on your back and rests between your thighs. he then starts to softly massage your body, hands caressing your arms and hands and thighs. they slide down your legs and to your feet, reaching back to work out the tenseness from your clenching of them.
he holds your body with so much love and care, and as you lay back in the soft comforter and mattress, you feel yourself begin to slip into that sweet feel of submission, of releasing control into the hands you trust the most… it washes over you in waves and it’s like ony can feel it.
“my baby,” he speaks, just barely above a whisper. you limbs are starting to relax more and more and he heightens the strength of his massaging. “keep breathing, love. keep relaxing. just feel.”
you swallow slightly, eyes blinking open to meet his. he smiles down at you and continues to soothe you with his touch. “I love you,” he whispers softly,
“I love you too,” you whisper back, voice just slightly strained. he leans again to press his lips to yours, tongue intimately twirling with yours. he shifts then, and you can feel his length rest between your thighs, reaching to your belly button. it makes your clit jump against him, and he has to breathe out at the sensation.
he reaches down between the both of you, hand lightly tracing down your stomach and to your clit, lightly spanking once, then twice. you hips jump just slightly in response, and then he presses a singular finger between your folds.
he keeps eye contact with you, watching as your lashes flutter in response to his touch. he presses into you then, eyes flicking to catch how you pull your lip between your teeth. he begins to move his finger back and forth, adding another when you’re ready.
one becomes two, and soon your weak, overstimulated whimpers become full blown moans as he brings your arousal back to life. he’s taking his time because he knows your body, and the benefits are showing. he curves his fingers deep, watching as you spread your legs and rock your hips.
the scrunch of your face, the furrow of your brow, the way you call his name, it’s all driving him deeper and deeper into that need to service you, to make you reach your limits of pleasure in unprecedented ways.
and just like that, his fingers are gone. the whimper you let out is shamelessly pathetic, and you blink up at him with wide, questioning eyes. but when he flicks his wrist and lightly plaps his heavy dick against you, your legs can’t help but spread instinctively.
the sight is gold for him, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “good girl,” he drawls, eyes raking over your body. “muscle memory just for papa. you ready for me, baby? ready for me to give you what you need?”
“please,” you murmur. your breathing is labored, skin prickling with desire and anticipation. “I need you.”
he wastes no time then. he presses himself against you, reaching to cup your jaw so that you can keep your eyes locked on his. you drag out a moan as he slips into you, taking advantage of your earlier wetness.
“yeah, that feel good, don’t it?” he grunts out, he himself having to take a breath at the squeeze of your pussy. “mmm, fuck, baby,” he damn near slurs. his eyes are glazed as he starts to rock his hips. “how can I forget how wet you get for me?”
he leans forward to rest his arms on the either side of your head, chest resting against yours as he grinds into you. you feel so full, the way he thrusts slowly pushing air out of you. “oh, fuck,” you whine, arms wrapping around his back. “s’too much,” you pant. “fuck, onyyyy.”
you can’t help but let out deep, pressing breaths and moans as he buries his fat dick into you. “take it, baby. it’s yours,” he pants. if he thought he was in heaven before, he was surely wrong. this is heaven, knee deep in your waters with your whines and moans right next to his ear. it’s a dream.
“you deserve it,” he huffs, leaning to press open mouthed kisses up the column of your neck. he continues to encourage you, staving off his own orgasm even though the grip you have around him has him ready to bust. “every inch, every kiss, everything. you deserve it. drown in it, baby. it’s yours to get lost in.”
he pulls back to rest his weight on his arms, hips rocking deeper and deeper as you open up more for him. your moans are deep, and you’re really trying to keep eye contact despite the fact that every thrust makes your eyes roll.
“pretty ass,” he murmurs softly, watching you closely. he tilts your chin up, pressing kisses to your cheeks, forehead, nose, all while you pant and whine.
“fuck, princess,” he groans throatily, reaching to grip your waist. “grippin’ me so perfectly. we fit like we made for each other, yeah? cause we are. you’re gonna be my wife, baby. my forever. are you happy? tell daddy.”
“I’m happy, ony,” you croak, eyes filling with tears from the pleasure and emotion. “I’m over the moon. fuuuuck, I’m so… so happy.” you’re still panting, trying to breathe deep, when he reaches down to play with your clit.
“good,” he grunts, hips diving deeper and making you cry out. “promise I’ll keep you that way.” it’s heavenly. a perfect view of his handsome face, the look in his eyes, they way he moves against you… it’s a true experience that you wish you could hold onto forever.
“let me see it,” he murmurs breathlessly, hips meeting yours again and again and again. you look up at him, confused in your blissed out state as he continues to ravish you past the point of clarity.
you can’t think about anything but the way grinds into you, a mess forming where you meet.
“your ring, baby,” he explains with a pleasured groan. “grab those pretty titties and let daddy see your ring.”
right. the ring.
just the thought makes you flutter around him, and he groans at the feel as you reach up to follow his direction. “fuck, yeah, mama. wish I could take a picture. I’d frame it and keep it just for me. so fuckin’ perfect.”
you don’t know why it makes you even wetter, the thought of him doing exactly that. having a picture just for him, showing off the ring he worked so hard to get. reminding him of the proposal he worked so hard on, and the fact that you said yes.
“do it,” you rasp.
his hips stutter slightly, and he’s broken out of his daze just a bit to look at you through the haze. “huh?” he asks.
“do it.”
he licks his lips as he blinks. did he hear that right? did you just tell him to—
“do it, papa,” you moan, your legs wrapping tighter around him.
fuck, there’s no way he can deny you when you moan like that, or himself from being able to see you in this position anytime he wants. he pulls back to blindly reach for his phone on the nightstand, and when he grabs it, he holds the camera up to have you in frame.
the look you give him past the camera, the way your ring glistens in the candle light as you grab your chest… it makes ony’s heart stutter. he’s so damn in love with you, it’s almost fucking scary. “God, I love you,” he grunts, tossing the phone away to press kisses up your neck to your lips.
he starts to buck into you again, hips moving expertly, and you feel his fingers at your clit. you can only whine in response as you kick your feet up. you’re at his mercy and there’s nothing you can do but take the loads of pleasure he brings your body. you pant and pant until another orgasm washes over you, small spurts of liquid squirting out of you.
“ohhh, yeah, princess,” he huffs, hips still meeting yours in rhythm. “give it to me. give it to me, just like that.” you can only curl your toes as your eyes roll back, hips jerking. you have to breathe manually after such an intense orgasm.
his hips slow, but don’t stop. he leans back and grabs your leg, shifting to lay on his side with your leg over his arm. he reaches to wrap his hand around your neck as he slowly meets your hips with his over and over.
“one more,” he moans. you can’t tell if it’s an encouragement or a request. “come on, princess, give me one more. make it good.”
ony leans his head down to your ankle, tongue trailing lazily up before he plants kisses to the top of your foot. his hand hooks under your thigh and he presses it up into your chest. he stares down at you with heavy lidded eyes, bottom lip pulling between his deep as his hips rock deeper.
the stretch is almost too much. he’s so deep, touching your heart damn near, and you moan deep as you reach up to grab a pillow tight. “oh my fuck,” you cry out, toes curling as he dives into you.
“uh-uh, open up for me, baby. relax,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your leg. you whimper as you try to breathe, watching him as he presses kisses down your foot and to your toes. “just one more, princess. I need it. c’mon,” he murmurs. he presses another kiss to your toe before pulling it into his mouth.
the moan you let out is sinful, as the sensation in combination with his thrusts is all consuming. “fuck, fuck, fuck. onyyy!”
he hums around your toe, moving to play with your clit again. tears build in your eyes at the sensation and ony can tell by the grip you have on him that you’re close. he pulls back to look at you, your debauched state only bringing him closer to the edge.
“mmm, I love how pretty you look on my dick, baby,” he rasps. “vision ‘a beauty. daddy’s favorite. daddy’s only. I hope you feel that shit in yo soul.”
“I feel it, ony,” you whine, head tilting back. “fuck, papa, I’m gonna make a mess.”
it’s music to his ears. his hips start to move fast at the thought, movements less smooth. he chases his own orgasm as he feels yours wash over you and him, your wetness painting you both. you cry out, reaching out to hold him tight to ground you as wave after wave of sensation hit.
the both of you pant, limbs dropping lazily as you catch your breath. he pulls you close, your back to his chest, and just holds you there. it’s silent except for your breathing and your eyes fall shut as you bask in the after glow.
“holy… fuck…” you say between huffs, your heart starting to slow bit by bit.
“yeah?” ony grunts, eyes peeling open to look at you.
you nod, reaching to lightly smack at him. “yeah. if that’s the sex fiancés have, we’re should’ve gotten engaged a while ago.” he chuckles tiredly and catches your hand, pressing lazy kisses to the skin there. “we should’ve. I had to pay for this trip somehow, though.”
“don’t start that. could’ve proposed with a pizza and I’d still cry,” you snort.
“I ain’t proposin’ to you with no fuckin’ pizza. hell wrong witchu.”
“it’s just an expression.”
“well, stop expressin’ it.”
“do you need that? like are you good?”
“do you need that? cause I can go another round now if you really bout it.”
“…whatever, ony. always makin’ stuff about you.”
he snorts at that, pinching your side, and you both laugh until you fall quiet.
“I love you, ony. so much,” you say softly. he caresses your side and presses a kiss to your head, heart fluttering at your expression.
“I love you too, ᥫ᭡.”
you both stay there a while, just relaxing in each other’s arms as you get your energy back. it’s like old times, but better. the love was always the same, only deeper and more intentional. it’s on a different level now, and neither of you could be happier.
a/n: this was supposed to be short, a lil sum to get me back writing so I can finish the next crys + ony fic… and it took on a life of its own. hope you like! as always, feedback welcome and wanted <3
saw this vid on twitter and immediately thought about connie likekdsjd—angeleyes!connie to be exact hehe! (wc: 1.2k)
just imagine bein’ at some kinda block party—a block party for dr independence day, and after hours of drinks, blunts (smoked by connie only), and grinding on each other with fuck me eyes, connie was finally at his wits end.
“te deseo,” the six foot something man whispered in your ear, his nose brushing over the shell of it a second later. his hands were hot on your waist, squeezing the supple skin possessively before snaking his fingertips past the hem of your shorts.
you froze, lashes fluttering almost doe like. “you mean, like . . right here? we couldn’t possibly—”
“i mean in my car you scaredy cat. i’m a little too faded to drive, but y’know i’m parked further away from here,” he chuckled, nosing at curve of your neck. the scent of his cologne wafted into your nose, dizzying your mind further. “m’not tryna fuck, or nothin’ . . . yet. solo quiero saborearte.”
you made a sound of faux protest, the drink in your hand feeling extra heavy all of a sudden. some head didn’t sound half bad at all . . especially after having two shots—it was just the whole doing it in public thing that had your heart fluttering.
his windows were blacked out . . and with all the festivities going on, you were almost sure no one would notice. well, as long as connie kept his promise, and kept it to some head.
so, that’s how you ended up in the backseat of his car, knees pushed to your chest while the jean shorts you were wearing, along with your panties, dangled off one of your ankles.
at first, your heart was hammering against your ribcage at the naughty, and ohhh so illegal act, but then you felt connie’s tongue slither over your slicked clit. the moan he let out from finally tasting you was pretty, so pretty that it had more slick dripping from your entrance.
“shit, babe,” you mewled, lips twisting into a pleasurable frown when connie laid a tatted hand on your left breast. the tank top you were wearing was comfortable, thin—thin enough to show the peaks of your nipples with little to no teasing.
his other hand grazed over your thighs, slowly making its down to your pussy. his fingers circled over your clenching hole, meanwhile the other squeezed tenderly at your breast. “never been so happy to not have a bra in my way. sabía que se veían extra bonitos por una razón.”
“mmm, i-i wanted to be comfortable since we was gon’ be out all day,” he heard you comment from above, your hand now resting on his head. a few days prior, he got his monthly buzzcut, and it had him looking so yummy. “go faster, please?”
connie cupped your clit between his glossy lips and suckled, hard. his ring and middle finger prodded at your entrance, and you squealed, hips jerking upward.
the hand that was resting on your chest, pushed against your mouth rather roughly. “tienes que guardar silencio, preciosa. don’t wanna draw any attention do you?” connie muttered against your pulsing clit, full lips ghosting over the bud delicately.
you let out a whine; embarrassed and muffled, but still shook your head ‘no’ with a glazed over look in your eyes.
he pressed a wet kiss to your mound, and inhaled deeply. “good . . you wanna hold my hand?” and then his brown eyes were on yours. his irises were dark, but the way he looked at you was soft and comforting.
when your head bobbed up and down in agreement, his bigger hand enveloped yours—warm, rough, but gentle as ever. he allowed you to squeeze it as hard as you needed while he slurped at your cunt, nimble fingers now curling deliciously against that spongy spot that only he could find.
it wasn’t long before you started creaming his fingers, translucent, white pearls of it sloppily dripping down his wrist, and onto the black, leather seats.
“más, dame más,mami,” he slurred into your dewy folds, reddened eyes flicking up to your watery ones. the pads of his fingers massaged your g-spot greedily. “papi need its it—c‘mon.”
obscene squelching noises filled the cramped area, along with your terribly concealed moans.
your nails dug into the skin of his palm, earning a small groan from him. “d-deja de hablar! make me cum before someone hears us.”
pearly white teeth grazed over your clit, and then, connie was actually pouting. the noise your cunt made when he removed his fingers was almost deafening, and to make things even more embarrassing, he actually held them up, and admired them. “you’re no fun . .”
sigh.
now you felt a little bad. why did he have to be so cute?
“hey . . .” you cupped his shiny chin, and ran your thumb over his cupids bow. “the sooner we finish up in here, the sooner we can sober up, n’ get home. you best believe i won’t be satisfied after just one, quick nut.”
connie’s dick throbbed behind his jeans at your words. your duality was quite impressive—one minute, you’re too bashful to even get proper words out, and the next, you’re fixing your lips to say some of the nastiest words he’s ever heard.
“come on, papi. open—”
the petal soft skin of your soaked folds grazed over his chin when you raised your hips, “por favor, tócame.”
he didn’t bother to say anything. why would he waste his breath spewing out anymore pointless words, when he could just delve back into the sweet, syrupy mess that was your pussy.
“yessuh—o-ouuuu shit!”
connie moaned into your cunt, dark, pretty lashes fluttering. his hand wrapped around your throat, and when he got bored of that, he pushed two fingers past your parted lips. both of your hands wrapped around his wrist, and then you started to suck.
your thighs trembled, and it only spurred him further, fingers and tongue working overtime to bring you to climax. a particular harsh nudge against you g-spot finally broke the dam in your lower belly, and before you could even think of letting out a shout, connie was covering your mouth again.
eventually, he removed his fingers from your convulsing hole, and focused on your clit, giving it soft, yet precise licks.
that made you whine loudly into his palm, and although most of it was muffled, he could definitely make out the ‘—nnieeeee’ part of it.
he only stopped when you kicked at his back in overstimulation, with fat tears threatening to spill over your lash line. your clit was released with a lewd pop, and then shown some love seconds after with a chaste kiss.
“damn, you got my neck all wet,” he chuckled, running a hand over the column of his throat. it was slick with your cum, and so were the seats below, but the real mess was sitting pretty, right between your thick thighs.
your clit was enticingly puffy, peeking out from between your chubby lips that were streaked with cream.
*huff* “that was really good, babe . . now can you help me up? i fear i’ve been in this position for too long.”
and just like that, the lustful look in your eyes was gone, and replaced with your usual cute, but blank expression.
it was safe to say you had a good time celebrating dominican independence day as his official girlfriend.
ony’s such a gentleman. he was raised to be. growing up in a house with younger sisters and a great example for what love really should look like, he can’t be anything but.
call him corny for feeling like he was born into a shitty dating world, but that’s how he feels. he wants to date. open doors for his woman, carry her stuff, treat her like the everything she is.
quite a few times he’s been told he’s too nice. too soft. women want someone more gruff, someone that can be a little mean. but he’s not changing for anyone.
so when he meets you, he knows he’s met his match.
someone that doesn’t play games or do the little mind tricks that turn him off. someone that actually appreciates his gestures and always gives such a bright smile and sweet thank you in return. someone that extends the same courtesies and has so much heart.
he’s enamored. immediately. and you are too.
there’s too many people in this world that don’t value those things, especially men. everyone has their own desires, of course, but it’s much too hard to find a person that’s on the same page as you.
but ony… he’s the one that respects you, sees you, and all around wants to be a good partner to you. it’s something new every week, really. flowers, little trinkets that remind him of you, surprise dates to places you barely mentioned once. he listens and he cares so damn much.
your friends are always pointing it out. how sweet he is to you and how he’s a one of a dying breed. they see how he gets you another drink without asking or makes sure you get a plate and eat. everyone can see how gentle he is with you.
“he’s so good to you. where you even find him at?”
“that man a lil too perfect. it’s scary. but… he got a brother or sum?”
“he’s such a gentleman. I bet he treats you like a princess.”
and he does.
usually his hands are so gentle with their hold on you. carefully guiding you through a crowd with a hand on your back or helping you detangle your curls with a soft touch.
usually he speaks to you so kindly. calling you his sweet lady or softening his voice when you’re sad or sleepy. complimenting your outfits or nails or whatever you’ve changed because of course he noticed.
but then there are times that he doesn’t. like… right now.
possibly triggering content below.
he has you, his sweet, precious lady who he treats like a queen, on the floor.
your pajama pants are ripped open, shirt halfway up your body and bonnet about to slip off and go to fucking timbuktu. the carpet below you is rubbing up against your knees with every thrust and you know saying anything about it is pointless when he gets like this.
you can only hold onto the leg of the coffee table as he fucks into you from behind, large hand coming down hard against the softness of your ass cheek. the sting is welcome—it’s all welcome—and you’d stay down there all day if you could.
“fu-uck…”
“shut up.”
and shut up you do. because at that moment, ony lifts one of his legs to plant his foot, dick digging deeper into you at an angle that has your jaw dropping. his hand firmly grips you by the nape and tugs you up, bending you into an arch.
smack! smack! smack!
“sometimes you needa be fucked like a slut,” he grunts, upper lip pulled into a slight snarl. “sometimes you need to shut up. sometimes you just need to take it.”
you don’t disagree. you can’t speak, anyway, if the drool dripping down your chin is anything to go by. all you can do is moan and reach between your legs, fresh set that ony paid for glistening as you play with your clit.
smack! smack! smack!
“you ain’t gone thank me? what kinda shit is that? know I’m fuckin’ you good,” he huffs. “know you love it when I fuck you like this. gimme this shit. sloppy fuckin’ pussy.”
you groan, knees burning from the carpet, ass burning from his spanks, and thighs burning from the position.
but fuck if it doesn’t feel good when he smacks your hand away to play with your pussy himself, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as he tugs you back to meet thrust after thrust.
“ain’t gone say shit? or you can’t?” he laughs breathlessly. it has you clenching around him, pleasured pout pulling at your lips. “awww, po’ baby. you embarrassed? too fuckin’ bad. gimme my shit.”
you come—again—but he doesn’t stop. he fucks you through it, slows down just slightly, but his hips still meet yours again and again, ignoring the complete mess you’re making beneath him. he’ll worry about that later.
“tap out,” he mumbles, hand sliding to the front of your throat. it’s a firm grip, not tight, and grounds you to the moment. he’s giving you an out, but you don’t want it. you shake your head as quick as you can in your state.
“aight then. come ride me. and if you stop? we startin’ all over again.”
৻ꪆ instructions. ensure you’re logged into your account and already have twitter open prior to clicking these porn links.
JEAN KIRSCHTEIN. ꒱
face buried in pussy. ⋆ pumping you with his fingers. ⋆ kissing all over you. ⋆ cuffed ‘n pounding. ⋆ 69ing. ⋆ fondling your boobies through lingerie. ⋆ seashell. ⋆ smack smack smack.
ONYANKOPON. ꒱
sucking him off in the bathtub. ⋆ passionately eating you out ⋆ backshots. ⋆ hitting it from the back. ⋆ missionary. ⋆ cowgirl. ⋆ ten inches deep. ⋆ munching your sloppy folds.
LEVI ACKERMAN. ꒱
missionary. ⋆ choking in a manbeater. ⋆ humping his foot. ⋆ psycho dick sucker. ⋆ tied. ⋆ piston that pussy. ⋆ backshots. ⋆ in the kitchen. ⋆ fingering you. ⋆ bent over. ⋆ rough sex.
ERWIN SMITH. ꒱
inspection. ⋆ experienced older man. ⋆ pretty ass perched atop his knee. ⋆ sweet make out sesh. ⋆ mutual masturbation. ⋆ helping him jerk off. ⋆ missionary.
ony’s such a gentleman. he was raised to be. growing up in a house with younger sisters and a great example for what love really should look like, he can’t be anything but.
call him corny for feeling like he was born into a shitty dating world, but that’s how he feels. he wants to date. open doors for his woman, carry her stuff, treat her like the everything she is.
quite a few times he’s been told he’s too nice. too soft. women want someone more gruff, someone that can be a little mean. but he’s not changing for anyone.
so when he meets you, he knows he’s met his match.
someone that doesn’t play games or do the little mind tricks that turn him off. someone that actually appreciates his gestures and always gives such a bright smile and sweet thank you in return. someone that extends the same courtesies and has so much heart.
he’s enamored. immediately. and you are too.
there’s too many people in this world that don’t value those things, especially men. everyone has their own desires, of course, but it’s much too hard to find a person that’s on the same page as you.
but ony… he’s the one that respects you, sees you, and all around wants to be a good partner to you. it’s something new every week, really. flowers, little trinkets that remind him of you, surprise dates to places you barely mentioned once. he listens and he cares so damn much.
your friends are always pointing it out. how sweet he is to you and how he’s a one of a dying breed. they see how he gets you another drink without asking or makes sure you get a plate and eat. everyone can see how gentle he is with you.
“he’s so good to you. where you even find him at?”
“that man a lil too perfect. it’s scary. but… he got a brother or sum?”
“he’s such a gentleman. I bet he treats you like a princess.”
and he does.
usually his hands are so gentle with their hold on you. carefully guiding you through a crowd with a hand on your back or helping you detangle your curls with a soft touch.
usually he speaks to you so kindly. calling you his sweet lady or softening his voice when you’re sad or sleepy. complimenting your outfits or nails or whatever you’ve changed because of course he noticed.
but then there are times that he doesn’t. like… right now.
possibly triggering content below.
he has you, his sweet, precious lady who he treats like a queen, on the floor.
your pajama pants are ripped open, shirt halfway up your body and bonnet about to slip off and go to fucking timbuktu. the carpet below you is rubbing up against your knees with every thrust and you know saying anything about it is pointless when he gets like this.
you can only hold onto the leg of the coffee table as he fucks into you from behind, large hand coming down hard against the softness of your ass cheek. the sting is welcome—it’s all welcome—and you’d stay down there all day if you could.
“fu-uck…”
“shut up.”
and shut up you do. because at that moment, ony lifts one of his legs to plant his foot, dick digging deeper into you at an angle that has your jaw dropping. his hand firmly grips you by the nape and tugs you up, bending you into an arch.
smack! smack! smack!
“sometimes you needa be fucked like a slut,” he grunts, upper lip pulled into a slight snarl. “sometimes you need to shut up. sometimes you just need to take it.”
you don’t disagree. you can’t speak, anyway, if the drool dripping down your chin is anything to go by. all you can do is moan and reach between your legs, fresh set that ony paid for glistening as you play with your clit.
smack! smack! smack!
“you ain’t gone thank me? what kinda shit is that? know I’m fuckin’ you good,” he huffs. “know you love it when I fuck you like this. gimme this shit. sloppy fuckin’ pussy.”
you groan, knees burning from the carpet, ass burning from his spanks, and thighs burning from the position.
but fuck if it doesn’t feel good when he smacks your hand away to play with your pussy himself, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as he tugs you back to meet thrust after thrust.
“ain’t gone say shit? or you can’t?” he laughs breathlessly. it has you clenching around him, pleasured pout pulling at your lips. “awww, po’ baby. you embarrassed? too fuckin’ bad. gimme my shit.”
you come—again—but he doesn’t stop. he fucks you through it, slows down just slightly, but his hips still meet yours again and again, ignoring the complete mess you’re making beneath him. he’ll worry about that later.
“tap out,” he mumbles, hand sliding to the front of your throat. it’s a firm grip, not tight, and grounds you to the moment. he’s giving you an out, but you don’t want it. you shake your head as quick as you can in your state.
“aight then. come ride me. and if you stop? we startin’ all over again.”
The morning began with a glow of holiday magic as you and Onyankopon watched your son, Orion, unwrap his presents. The room was filled with the toddler’s joyful squeals and bright smiles. As the holiday faded into evening, a darker, more desperate affection emerged—greedy, illicit, and entirely yours. By the next morning, the intensity had transformed into gentle fatherhood; you watched as Onyankopon laid on the floor, acting as the landscape for Orion’s cars to speed through.
°☃3,124 words, fluff at the beginning and end, opening presents, father/son moments, toy car driving, smut/explicit sexual content 18+, oral (f), riding, light dirty talk, overstimulation, no condom (wrap it), creampie, pet names/name calling(e.g., baby, ma/mama, honey, and sweetie/sweets), etc☃ °
☃18+ 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑫𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕☃
The living room floor was a disaster zone of torn wrapping paper and discarded bows, the early morning light filtering in soft and grey. It was quiet, save for the frantic rustle of Orion annihilating another meticulously wrapped box near the tree. You sat on the rug, leaning back against Onyankopon’s legs where he sat on the sofa.
You guys didn’t usually do big Christmases—you spoiled each other rotten year-round, a random Tuesday is just as good as a holiday for a gift—but having Orion changed things. Made the morning feel a little more magical.
You finished unwrapping the heavy box on your lap, peeling back the last bit of silver paper. You smiled instantly. It was a treasure trove of craft supplies—over thirty colors of yarn, sleek new crochet hooks that glinted in the light, bags of paper mache mix, and tucked in the corner, the heavy glass bottle of that amber perfume you wore only for him, the one that cost way too much.
You tilted your head back to look at him upside down. He was already watching you, hand resting warm on your shoulder.
“You tryna keep my hands busy so I stay out of yours?” you teased softly.
He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that vibrated against your back. He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.
“Just like seein’ you make stuff. And you smellin’ good while you do it ain't bad for me either.”
You hummed, pleased, spritzing a tiny bit on your wrist just to smell it. You turned your attention back to Orion, lifting your phone to record as the toddler finally conquered the tape on a big toy truck, squealing in triumph.
“Look at him,” you whispered, heart swelling.
“Mhm.” his hand slid from your shoulder to cup the side of your neck, his thumb brushing your pulse. He wasn't looking at the baby; he was looking at you watching the baby. “Got his mama’s determination.”
At four years old, Orion was a sturdy, solid little human, a perfect blend of the two of you. He had Ony’s sharp jawline and those same dark, dense coils—which you’d spent an hour meticulously cornrowing just last week—but when he looked up, it was your eyes and your nose that softened his face.
He was at that age where he was constantly underfoot, a tiny shadow that followed you from room to room just to narrate his day, only to pivot and climb all over his father the second he sat down. He was the center of your world, the one thing you both loved with an intensity that felt almost frightening.
Right now, though, he was losing a war with a stray stick-on bow. It had hitched a ride on his sleeve, and every time he tried to shake it off, the adhesive just hopped to a different finger. He let out a frustrated huff, his little face scrunching into a look of genuine offense when he couldn't get it to stop sticking.
“It's stuck!” he announced, sounding deeply betrayed by the gift wrap. "Get off me!"
You muffled a laugh against your hand, watching Onyankopon reach down to gently peel the bow off the boy's hand, only for Orion to immediately dive back into the discarded paper to find another present.
When he was happily distracted with plastic men, you nudged the stack of gifts toward Ony's feet.
“Your turn, old man.”
He raised an eyebrow but leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He opened the heavy bags first. He let out an appreciative whistle when he pulled out the bottles—two aged bourbons he’d eyed months ago but never bought for himself.
“Okay, okay,” he murmured, reading the labels. “Tryna get me drunk tonight?”
“Maybe.” You smirked, sliding the flat, rectangular box toward him.
He opened the laptop with a nod of approval, running a hand over the sleek metal lid. It was top-of-the-line, exactly what he needed for his side projects. “Damn, baby. You doin’ too much. This is nice.”
“Open the last one,” you urged, nodding to the smaller, heavy box.
He frowned slightly, confused by the weight, and tore the paper. When he lifted the lid, he went still. It wasn't expensive tech or liquor. It was a six-pack of cream soda. The glass bottles were old-fashioned, the labels faded-looking. It was the kind you could only buy outside of the tiny corner stores in the neighborhood he grew up in, three states away. He stared at the bottles for a long second, his jaw working just a little. He picked one up, running his thumb over the cold glass cap.
When he looked up at you, his eyes were soft, stripped of his usual cool veneer. It was a look full of quiet, heavy reverence.
“How’d you even get these out here?” he asked, voice rougher than usual.
You shrugged, reaching out to cover the hand holding the bottle. “I have my ways. Knew you missed home a little bit.”
He shook his head slowly, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He set the bottle down and reached for you, snagging your waist and pulling you up off the floor until you were straddling his lap on the sofa.
“You're something else, you know that?” he murmured, wrapping his arms tight around you, pulling you flush against his chest. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling the scent of the perfume he’d just given you.
“Merry Christmas,” you whispered into his hair, holding him just as tight. He kissed the sensitive spot under your ear, lingering there. “Merry Christmas, baby. You're too good to me.”
☃
The house was finally silent, the chaotic joy of wrapping paper and toddler giggles replaced by the heavy, thick quiet of late night. Orion was out cold in the nursery, worn out from the excitement, leaving the master bedroom lit only by the soft, blue glow of the baby monitor and the moonlight creeping through the curtains.
You were sprawled back against the pillows, knees bent and thrown wide, your plush thighs trembling. Onyankopon was buried deep between your legs, feasting like a man starved.
“Mghn—Ony, fuck,” you gasped, fingers tangling in his coils, tugging weakly. He didn't stop. His tongue was broad and relentless, lapping at your swollen clit with a rhythm that made your toes curl.
His large hands gripped your thighs, thumbs pressing deep into the soft, dimpled flesh. The cool metal of his wedding band bit slightly into your skin, a hard, constant reminder of the vow that gave him every right to hold you this way—open, soft, and entirely his.
He groaned against you, the vibration buzzing through your sensitive skin, and sucked hard. That pushed you over.
You cried out, hips bucking off the mattress, riding his face as the orgasm rolled through you, warm and sticky. He drank it all down, chasing the tremors until you collapsed back, panting, chest heaving under your shirt.
Before you could fully catch your breath, you were sitting up, eyes hooded and filled with a hunger that wasn't satisfied yet. You reached for his shoulders, trying to pull him up from between your legs.
He pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wary but dark with lust. “Whoa, wait. What're you doin’?”
“I want to get on top,” you whispered, shifting to the center of the bed.
He shook his head immediately, a mix of panic and desire in his gaze. “No, ma. Lay back down. You know I can’t last when you ride me. Look, I—.”
You ignored him completely. You grabbed his hand and pulled, guiding him to lie back against the pillows.
“I didn’t ask if you could last,” you started, crawling over him. “I said I want to get on top.”
“You’re hardheaded,” he grumbled, though his hands came up to grip your hips instinctively, his thumbs sinking into your waist.
You straddled his thighs, hovering over him. You hiked your nightshirt all the way up, bunching it under your arms to expose your soft, pudgy stomach and heavy breasts.
You looked down at him—at the tent in his briefs that was already throbbing—and smirked. You pulled his waistband down, freeing his cock. It sprang free, thick and heavy, veins prominent against the skin. You lined him up, the broad head nudging your wet entrance, slick with your own juices and his saliva.
He hissed a breath through his teeth. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he muttered, head falling back against the pillows as you began to sink down.
You took him slow, inch by inch. The stretch was immense—he felt wider than usual tonight, filling you completely, stretching your walls until you felt full to the brim. You let out a shaky breath as you bottomed out, his pubic bone hitting your clit with a dull, heavy pressure.
“Mmm…,” you hummed, settling your weight on him. Your soft thighs pressed against his, the heat between you radiating. You leaned forward, bracing your hands on the mattress on either side of his head. Your breasts swayed with the movement, brushing against his chest, nipples hard and sensitive.
You kissed him—slow, deep, and lazy. You started to roll your hips, a grinding rhythm that let you feel every vein, every ridge of him deep inside your guts.
He groaned, his resolve crumbling instantly. His hands squeezed your ass, fingers digging into the plush cheeks, kneading the flesh as he thrusted up gently to meet you.
The drag was lewd, thick, slick. Slow at first. Rolling grinds. It’s not fast, not pounding. It’s deep, every movement filling and intentional, like you wanted to ruin your shape around him.
“Fuck, you feel good. So tight... so wet,” he rasped against your lips. One of his hands moved from your ass to slide between your grinding bodies.
His thumb found your clit, sticky and swollen, and he started to rub.
That was the mistake.
After a few seconds, the added sensation hit you like a live wire. Your pace picked up, the lazy grind turning into a snap. You pulled back, sitting up straight, and started to bounce.
Plap. Plap. Plap.
The sound of your ass hitting his thighs filled the quiet room. You rode him harder, your stomach rolling, your breasts bouncing with a hypnotic, violent rhythm. They jolted with every thrust, mesmerizing him. His hand came up to cup one, thumb flicking over your nipple until you gasped.
The rhythm grew faster, the slap of skin against skin mixed with the squelch of your pussy sucking him in. He groaned at how tight your walls became.
“Baby—slow down,” he grunted, his eyes glazed over as he watched you ride. His hips stuttered as he tried to keep up. “Ma, I’m serious. You tryna kill me?”
“No,” you panted, eyes shut tight, lost in the feeling of his thick length hammering so deep, hitting that sweet spot over and over. Your breath stuttered, lips parting as your gaze locked on his.
Those eyes… they’re darker now, the pupils blown wide, catching the sliver of moonlight with a faint glow. His face is flushed, lips parted, muscles flexing with every thrust—but his eyes stayed on yours, dark and full of something unnerving and tender. He looks wrecked. But he is still the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.
His skin is a rich, dark brown. The crisp lines of his signature fade have softened into a dark, velvety growth, mirroring the new ruggedness of his face. A thick, coarse beard is beginning to claim his jawline, joining a full mustache, adding an attractive, heavy weight to his features that only made his expression more intense.
You bounced harder, twisting your hips at the bottom of each stroke to milk him.
Your hand trailed, brushing over the sweat-damp planes of his stomach. Higher until your palm grazed his collarbone. Your ring clicked softly against his skin. As you traced the line of his throat, the gold band felt light and warm, a symbol of the years spent memorizing every inch of the man beneath you.
His eyes dropped, watching where you’re joined, the slide of his cock in and out of you, the way your body gripped him. He groaned low, already feeling his climax tip.
He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched tight, neck cords straining. “Mghn—Shit, I’m gonna—fuck!” He didn't finish. His hips bucked up violently, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as he emptied himself inside you.
You felt his dick throb, twitching and swelling even larger as he pumped hot streams of cum deep into your womb.
He slumped back, chest heaving, expecting you to stop. You didn’t. You kept bouncing on his sensitive, pulsing dick, draining him completely.
“Baby, come on.” He pleaded, his eyes snapping open. Onyankopon reached up and smacked your ass—hard—a stinging slap meant to shock you into stillness.
“Wait. Damn, I said wait—ahn”
“No,” you whined, breathless. You lifted your hips and slammed back down, twerking on his softening but still-hard shaft, grinding your clit against his pelvis. The friction was incredible, the slick mess of his cum making every movement wet and loud.
“God... fuck... you’re too much,” he groaned, trying to push at your hips, but you were heavy, planted firm, and determined. “It’s too much—fuck, it’s sensitive!”
“Stop squirming,” you scolded, breathless, slapping his hands away. “Let me cum again. It’s right there.”
You sped up, using the slick mess of his cum and your own wetness to glide effortlessly. You churned on him, milking the last of his arousal, forcing him to stay hard just a little longer. Slick gushed round his dick, wetness spreading over his pelvis, dripping down his balls. Every thrust made the mess louder, wetter, obscene.
“You're so nasty,” he moaned, sounding tortured. He tried to wrap his arms around your waist to pull you down to his chest, to physically restrain the motion.
His voice cracks, raw and deep—“Get down here. Chill out, baby, please.”
“Let go!” you whined. You writhed out of his grip, shoving him back against the mattress. You grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, using your weight to hold him down. You looked down at him—eyes low, chest heaving, sweat glistening on your collarbone, your breasts heaving with every breath.
“M’not done,” you panted.
You rode him mercilessly then. Short, fast, grinding bounces that focused entirely on your pleasure. You watched his face contort, wavering between overstimulated agony and pure worship at the sight of you taking what you wanted.
His thick length was still lodged deep inside you, and with every contraction of your walls, you pulled a low, broken sound from his throat.
You nodded, eyes heavy, desperate to keep going, to pull that rough sound out of his chest just one more time.
“Messy girl. Look what you’re doing to me.” he whispered, voice hoarse—bliss-drunk, his head rolling side to side, hips involuntarily twitching up to meet you despite the sensitivity.
“Almost,” you gasped, biting your lip hard to keep your moans from rising. “ahhn—almost.”
His hand lifted quickly—almost without thinking, covering your mouth before your moans picked up. Now they're nothing but muffled whimpers against his palm, the sound of your own wetness loud in the room.
Every thrust feels like it’s breaking you open—his dick keeps hitting that spot so deep inside you that your vision keeps flashing white. You ground down hard, circling your hips, squeezing him as tight as you could.
He felt you everywhere—wrapped around him, coaxing every reaction out of his body like you knew it better than he did.
And then it hit.
You screamed, the sound muffled slightly as you threw your head back, your body seizing up. You clamped down on him, your walls squeezing around his dick like it was trying to keep him locked inside forever. You rode out the aftershocks, twitching and trembling, grinding weakly against him until the last wave passed.
Finally, you collapsed forward onto his chest, completely spent. The room was quiet again, save for the harsh, ragged sound of breathing from both of you and the wet, sticky sound of your skin peeling away from his as you shifted.
He lay there for a long moment, limp, his hands coming up to rub soothing circles on your back, even though his legs were shaking.
“Jesus Christ,” he wheezed, kissing the top of your sweaty head. “I told you... I told you I wouldn't last.”
You smirked into his chest, eyes closed, satisfied and sleepy, feeling his heart hammer against your cheek. “Worked out fine for me.”
He huffed a laugh, shifting to get comfortable under your weight, squeezing your ass one last time.
“Greedy. Absolutely greedy.” He pulls you down into a kiss. It’s slow, but messy—open mouths, tongues brushing, both of you breathing hard into each other.
☃
The living room, still littered with traces of wrapping paper from Christmas morning a week ago, was bathed in the late afternoon sun.
Onyankopon was sprawled on his stomach on the rug, wearing a beat-up old t-shirt and sweats, his head propped up on his forearm. Orion, who was deep into his current obsession, was driving a fleet of plastic vehicles—a bright yellow taxi, a red fire truck, and the triumphant blue dump truck from Christmas—across his father's back.
You were watching from the kitchen island, nursing a warm cup of tea, enjoying the quiet moment.
“Vroom-vroom!” Orion announced seriously, driving the fire truck straight up the spine of Onyankopon’s t-shirt. “Da-da, traffic!”
“Oh, man, traffic?” He muttered, his voice muffled by the carpet. He reached up, blindly trying to grab the boy’s ankle, missing playfully.
“You gotta watch out for the pilot, Orion. He’s busy.”
He just giggled, completely undeterred, and began using Ony’s wide shoulder blade as a complicated four-way intersection.
“He’s got a pretty good road system going on your back there,” you observed, taking a sip of your tea.
He sighed dramatically, his chest expanding as he shifted his weight. “I’m a map, now. I’m infrastructure.”
“Da-da, pit stop!” Orion commanded, bringing the bright yellow taxi to a screeching halt—right on the tender curve of Ony’s kidney.
Onyankopon let out a soft, theatrical gasp. “Ooh, rough pit stop, buddy. Rough pit stop. Gotta be gentle with the machinery.”
Orion paused, looking down at his dad with a serious, worried frown, before planting a very wet, open-mouthed kiss right on the back of his neck. Ony grinned, turning his head just enough to catch his son's eye.
“Okay, damage repaired. Good job, little medic. Now go on, finish your race.”
The moment was simple, domestic, and utterly loving. It was a clear, quiet contrast to the intensity you two often shared—but this tenderness, this easy, affectionate way they moved through the quiet hours, was the foundation of everything else.
It was the calm love that always brought him back home.
You walked over, set your mug down on the end table, and knelt beside the sofa, reaching out to stroke the back of his neck, right where Orion had kissed him.
“You’re a good dad and an amazing husband, Onyankopon,” you murmured, smoothing his hair. He shifted his gaze up to meet yours, his eyes soft and genuine. He loved the quiet admiration in your voice, the acknowledgement that he was safe and needed here.
“Only because I got a good family,” he whispered, his hand reaching out to squeeze your knee before turning his attention back to the yellow taxi barreling toward his lower back. “Alright, son. Full speed ahead!”
Your best friend calls, voice raw, and you realize he’s jerking off to you. The call spirals into a dirty, tense back-and-forth—him confessing all the nasty things he wants to do to you, you teasing between sweet and cruel, letting him see just enough to break him. He cums hard for you, then you make him listen while you play with yourself and orgasm. At the very end, you drop the sweetest bomb—and hang up, leaving him ruined, obsessed, and wanting more.
★2,827 words, old story, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), lots of dirty talk, masturbation, praise & a tiny bit of degradation, pet name/name calling (e.g, ma/mama, baby, sweetheart, honey¹, and slut¹), you're a little mean but he likes it, etc★
★18+ 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑫𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕★
"Hello?" you call, picking up on the third ring. The room is quiet, the only light the coming from your amber lamp and the blue glow from your screen reflecting off your freshly done nails.
"H-hey," his voice scrapes out on the other end. It’s a wrecked sound—ragged, breathless, and vibrating with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.
Your brows pull tight, a slow worry already beginning to tug at your lips. "Are you okay? You sound... off."
You picture him for a second. Maybe he’s sweaty from a run, his chest heaving under a thin t-shirt. Or maybe he’s been lugging another Amazon dresser for that old lady down the block—always the good guy, always helping somebody. But as you listen to the heavy, rhythmic hitch in his breathing, you realize you’re wrong.
Right now, your best friend is laid out on his bed, the sheets a mess beneath him. His sweatpants and boxers are shoved down to his mid-thighs, his brown skin damp and glowing in the dim light of his room. His stomach is corded, muscles tightening and rippling with every long, desperate drag of his fist. His dick is a dark, heavy weight in his hand—slick, flushed, and dripping through his fingers.
He’s slowly but firmly stroking himself to the thought—and now the sweet, taunting sound—of your voice. Precum is already smeared over his knuckles, his thumb rolling lazy over his slit before pressing harder, coaxing a deep, guttural grunt from his throat.
"Mgh—nothing. Just... talk to me," he rasps, the friction of his hand audible through the speaker.
Your frown deepens, your heart is starting to race. "Why? What’s wrong, baby?"
The pet name slips out easy, unthinking. But the effect is immediate—he moans low, a broken, helpless sound, like you’d reached through the line and wrapped your hand around him yourself. He lives for when your voice turns soft like this, when you stop clowning him and get sweet. His fist moves quicker now, his hips pushing up into his palm, seeking the friction he can’t get enough of.
"I'm fine, I promise. Just keep talking. Please."
You fall quiet for a beat, leaning back against your headboard. You listen harder. You hear the wet, squelching sounds of his grip. The sharp little hitches of breath. The low, animalistic sound he makes when his fist squeezes tighter at the base.
And it clicks.
"...You’re jerking off."
Silence. Just the heavy, frantic sound of his breathing. Then a broken, self-deprecating laugh. "Yeah. M'sorry. Can’t stop. Not when it’s you."
Your breath stutters, a prickle of heat blooming low in your belly. "You’re getting off to me? On the damn phone?"
"Every time," he admits, his voice rough and needy, but with a sudden edge of raw honesty. He wants you to know. He wants you to feel the weight of it. "Think about you all the time. That mouth. Those tits. The way your ass looks in those shorts." His pace picks up, the slick, lewd sounds of his hand working his dick filling the line. "Fuck, I’d do anything to see you ride me, just once. Just to see what that look on your face is like when I’m deep inside you."
You bite your lip, your pulse kicking against your throat. "That’s disgusting. Using my voice to get your nut. You’re nasty."
He groans like you’ve just blessed him with a touch. "Yeah, I know. But you're all I think about... you’re the only thing that gets me this hard."
"That's nice, honey. But you really shouldn't think of me like that... you know we're just friends," you murmur, your own hand sliding down to rest heavy on your thigh, the silk of your shorts cool against your palm.
"Don’t say that." His tone cuts sharp now, all the nice playfulness you've come to love is gone. "I’m not your fucking friend. You call me every day. You tell me you love me. I told you from the start—I’m not your friend." His breath hitches, the wet sounds of his fist speeding up, becoming more frantic. "You let me talk to you like this. And you let me—You let me be in your life knowing how I feel about you."
Your acrylic nail drags slow across your bottom lip. "Maybe. But I can't give you what you want, and I do love you, but don't throw it in my face," you drawl, a cruel, satisfied smirk pulling at your mouth.
"It’s kinda sad. Stroking your dick to a girl you’ll never have. We'll never be together. I’ll never let you fuck me. All you get is your hand."
He chokes out a moan, his hips snapping up into his fist with a raw, mechanical rhythm. "Yeah? Then give me something else. Show me. Facetime me, ma. Please."
You hesitate, the heat pooling heavy and agonizing between your thighs. Then, you click over.
The screen flickers to life. His camera is shaking, his breath filling the dark room. Sweat beads at his temples, his face flushed a deep, beautiful bronze, his lips parted. You know that tremor in the camera—it’s the force of his fist moving fast.
"Thank you," he exhales, the word almost reverent as he takes in your appearance.
"Hi, baby. Let me see your face," you don't ask it like a question. You order it.
He obeys instantly. His face fills the screen, his jaw tight and corded, his sharp fade a bit messy from the heat and the friction.
"You look good," you compliment, but the little laugh that follows makes it sting.
"Keep talking." He’s close, you can hear the strain in his voice. "Don't stop."
"I want to see."
He blinks, his eyes glazed and dark. "What?"
"I'm not repeating myself."
He lets out a breathless, desperate laugh, knowing your patience is thin. "Take your shirt off then. Let me see what I'm working for."
You narrow your eyes at the audacity, but you reach down and tug the pajama top off anyway. Your lace bra catches the light, the fabric straining against the fullness of your breasts. You don’t cover yourself; he’s seen you in less, and you want him to see exactly what he’s missing.
"Fuck," he groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated pain. He flips the camera.
Your breath catches. Your mouth goes dry. His dick is a complete mess—his fist is working tight and fast, the dark, veined length of him glistening with pre-cum. White streaks of cum are already dried tacky over his thighs from previous rounds, and his stomach is flexing with every pull. His abs are glistening, his skin slick with sweat. His thumb smears a fresh bead of precum over the flushed, velvet head until it gleams, dripping onto his knuckles.
You bite your lip hard, heat twisting through your belly, your shorts already sticking damp between your thighs.
His moan rips through the line, a guttural, animal sound.
You whisper his name, your voice low, trembling, and possessive. "... I really want you in my mouth."
His head snaps back against the pillow, a broken curse ripped from his lungs. "If I had you here? I’d fuck that throat till you cried. Till you gagged around me and begged for air. I’d hold your head and make you take every fucking inch."
You hum, a low, taunting vibration. "You’re not tough enough for that."
That pulls a dark, dangerous laugh from him. His hand works faster, the veins straining down his forearm. "Say that shit again. I’d hold your face down and shove my dick so deep you’ll feel me in your chest. I’ll make you swallow every drop."
Your thighs squeeze together, wetness soaking through the crotch of your shorts. "All talk. You’d fold the second it touched my tongue."
He groans, deep and pained. "God, you drive me fucking insane." His breath stutters, then—"Take your bra off for me. Now."
You tilt your head, slow and teasing. "You want a show?"
"Take it off." His voice is rough, a plea threaded with a hard command.
You hook your fingers into the lace, slipping it down your shoulders, letting it fall. Your breasts sit full and heavy in the camera’s glow, your nipples tight and peaked in the cool air.
He chokes on his own breath. "God, look at you. Perfect. Fucking perfect."
Your fingers lift, tugging lightly at one nipple, rolling it between your fingers. "Like this, baby?"
His hand drags hard down his dick, the slick sound of it filling your ears. "Yeah—play with them for me. Pinch ‘em. Roll ‘em." His eyes roll back for a second, his mouth slack. "Fuck—I wanna cum all over those tits. Paint you, watch it drip down your stomach. You’d look so good messy with my cum."
You coo, your voice dirty and soft. "Yeah, baby? You wanna ruin me like that? Wanna cover me ‘cause I’m yours?" You pinch harder, moaning low. "Mmh, I’d let you do it however you want."
His hips jerk up into his fist, his cock flushed dark, thick, and veined. The head is shiny with slick, and your eyes stay locked on it, transfixed by the weight of him in his palm.
You whisper, almost reverent. "I can’t stop watching your hands. They're so big and veiny. So strong. You're twitching in your grip—look at you, baby. All that for me."
He groans raggedly, his fist slapping wetly down the length of his shaft. "All for you. Always for you." His voice cracks, desperate. "Squeeze 'em, touch your tits harder. Let me see you play with those pretty nipples."
You squeeze your breast, pinch your nipple harder, tugging it until you gasp, your eyes locked on his fist pumping. The sound of it—wet, obscene, skin slapping skin—is the only thing in the world.
"Fuck," he grits out, his voice frayed. "I’d drag you down and smear every drop over you. I wanna fill you up."
You laugh softly, mean but sweet. "Yeah? You’d mark me up? Cover me so everybody knows this pussy’s yours? Even though you’ll never get to fuck it?"
He groans, almost breaking under the weight of the tease. "Stop—don’t say that. I’d fuck you stupid, ma. I’d split you open. Make you cry for me."
You hum, stroking your breast with slow, deliberate circles. "I bet you would. But right now? All you’ve got is your hand. And me watching."
His grip tightens, his strokes becoming rough and fast. His stomach flexes, his breath tearing ragged from his chest. You lean close to the screen, your voice low and syrup-thick.
"Cum for me, baby."
He moans, a high, guttural sound.
"Yeah," you coax, squeeze your breast, shifting them again, "make a mess for me. Let me see you shoot it all over yourself. Come on. Show me how much you want me."
"Fuck—" His hips stutter up into his fist. Precum spills slick down his shaft, his knuckles shiny and wet.
"Begging you, sweetheart," you whisper, cruel and filthy. "Paint yourself for me. Cover that stomach, those big hands—show me what I do to you."
He chokes, his eyes squeezing shut, his jaw locked tight as his body begins to coil for the release. "M’close—oh fuck, I’m gonna—"
"Do it," you purr, sharp and commanding. "Cum for me, baby. Now."
His whole body jerks. A shout rips from his throat, raw and primal, as thick, hot ropes of cum spill over his hand, his chest, dripping down his stomach in heavy white streaks. He pumps through the release, groaning brokenly, the cum splattering messy and hot across his skin.
You sigh, watching the way it looks against his skin, your voice turning sweet again. "That’s it. Good boy. Look at that dick, dripping for me. You made such a mess."
He’s panting, ruined, his hand still twitching around his softening length. "Fuck... fuck, I love you."
You tilt the camera, watching him still sprawled—sweat dripping, stomach streaked with cum, hand twitching.
"Mmh," you hum, soft and wicked, "look what you did, baby. Got me all wet."
His head snaps up, eyes heavy but blazing. "Show me."
You smirk, slipping your hand under the waistband of your shorts, dragging the damp fabric aside. Glossy, honey-thick strings pull as you spread yourself open, the phone angled just enough to flash him a glimpse of your soaking wet center. "See that? All for you."
He groans, his chest heaving. "Touch it for me. Play with yourself—please, ma."
Your laugh is low and cruel. "Not a chance. You already got your show."
His jaw tightens, his voice rough. "Don't play with me. You don't let me watch, I'll make you beg next time. I'll make you sorry."
You lean close to the screen, your smirk sharp and triumphant. "Try me. You don't scare me, baby. I said no."
His fist curls against his stomach, frustration pouring through the camera. "Then... at least—fuck—at least let me listen. Please. Let me hear it."
You bite your lip, dragging your fingers slow through your slickness, making yourself whimper. "You’re nasty."
"Yeah," he rasps, desperate. "For you. Only for you."
You sigh, soft and sweet, pressing two fingers against your clit until your hips twitch. "Fine. You can listen. But that’s it. Just your ears."
Your moans slip out, low and syrupy, filling the line. His breath shudders at the sound, ruined but hungry again. Your fingers circle your clit, the wet, squelching sounds of your own pleasure bleeding into the line. You bite your lip, letting a whimper slip, knowing he’s eating every sound alive.
"That’s it," he rasps, his voice still raw from cumming. "Rub that pretty pussy for me. God, I wanna be there so bad—wanna hold your thighs open and eat you till you’re crying."
Your head tips back, your breath shaky. "Mghn—You talk so nasty, baby."
"You don’t even know," he grits out. "I’d spread you out and pound that pussy till you scream. I’d fuck you till you smell like me. I'd never let you leave the bed."
A moan rips out of you, high and breathless. Your fingers circle faster, your hips rolling up off the bed as the tension coils.
"You like that?" he groans. "Knowing how bad I want you? Tell me you’ll give it up one day. Tell me I’ll get to fuck you for real."
Your laugh cuts sharp and shaky. "N-No, baby. You’ll never have me like that."
He curses, a guttural sound of frustration. "Fuck. You’re killing me, ma."
Your moans rise, sharper now, your body coiling tight. "Keep talking. Don't stop."
He obeys, his voice a low, gravelly anchor. "I’d hold your hips down. Spit in your mouth while I fuck you raw. Fill you up and make you go for hours."
That does it—your back arches, your thighs clenching tight as your orgasm rips through you. A sharp cry tears from your throat, your fingers working frantically over your clit as waves of pleasure slam through your body. You gasp his name, shuddering and trembling, your juices dripping messy against your hand.
He groans raggedly, listening to the sound of your break like it’s gospel. "That’s it—fuck, that’s it. Cum for me. Good girl. Good fucking girl."
You collapse back, chest heaving, sweat dampening your skin. You let out a low, satisfied hum. "Oh, shit... see what you did? You made me cum, handsome."
His breath hitches on the other end, broken and reverent. "...I’d do anything to see that."
Your breathing slows, your chest still rising and falling heavy. Your fingers slip from your soaked folds, leaving a wet sheen on your thighs. The line is quiet except for the sound of you both catching your breath.
He’s the first to break it, his voice ragged. "Man... I swear, one day—"
You cut him off with a sweet, dismissive little laugh, curling back into your pillow and pulling the covers up. "Shh. Don’t start again."
The silence stretches, thick and heavy with the things he wants to say. You can feel the ache in his voice, how close he is to spilling confessions you aren't ready to hear. So you give him something else. Something cruel, but honest.
"Thank you," you murmur, soft and sweet. Almost tender. "I love you so much, baby."
The phone goes quiet. You can picture him—eyes wide, lips parted, his heart clenching around those words. You know exactly what you’ve done to him.
You smile to yourself, curling the blanket over your bare chest. "Good night."
And you hang up before he can even find his voice to answer.
